


Sleep

by SkylarEQuinn



Series: Sleep [2]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2020-12-28 18:02:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 28
Words: 64,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21140903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkylarEQuinn/pseuds/SkylarEQuinn
Summary: Human AU. Troubled by vivid nightmares of murdering people, Ivan Braginsky begins to lose sleep and feels as if he's losing his mind. But as bodies begin to turn up just as he dreams them, he begins to wonder if they aren't just nightmares after all.





	1. Prologue

How long had it been since Ivan had slept? Had it been days? Hours? Weeks? Months? It felt like it had been forever. He felt as if he were seeing the world differently. It was as if it were a blur or a terrifying nightmare. Was it really reality, though?

His best friend Chun-Yan Wang had been worried about him for the past week or so. She worried that he wasn't getting enough sleep. Apparently he had grown increasingly irritable, though he hadn't noticed it at all. She had, though.

It wasn't like it was Ivan's choice not to sleep. He would sleep if he could. It was just that he didn't know how to anymore. No one chose to have insomnia. No one would want insomnia either.

.

"I don't get why you hang out with that psychopath anyway," Yao Wang, Chun-Yan's father told her one night in front of Ivan. He figured that since Ivan was always spacing off and muttering to himself that he wasn't paying attention, but he didn't know that Ivan had heard every word. "If you look at him, you can tell that he stays up all night. What do you think he does? The kid freaks me out. What is his problem anyway?"

"Dad, please don't say things like that about my best friend," Chun-Yan sighed. "He can hear you, you know."

"No he can't, Chun, now shut up before I make you," Yao grumbled.

"Yes, sir," Chun-Yan softly said, frowning and looking down.

Yao smacked her, hard. "I am your father, and you will address me as so."

Ivan couldn't take it anymore as he began to shake. He felt his eyes close as he fell asleep slowly.

.

In his dream, he got up and walked up behind Yao with a sharp knife from the kitchen, stabbing it into his back. Chun-Yan let out a scream and fainted at the sight of blood. Ivan kept stabbing the knife into Yao's back over and over and over until the man fell and stopped moving.

He then ran over to Chun-Yan and held her as she came to. "Chun, are you okay?" he asked, frowning.

"Ivan, you killed my father!" she cried out. "No, I'm not okay!"

"He'll never hurt you again," Ivan softly told her. "And I'm not letting anyone ever hurt you again."

Chun-Yan gasped out. "Ivan, no! I need to call the police! You killed my father! Do you not understand how terrible that is?!"

Ivan made a grab for the knife again. "Don't you dare touch that phone," he told her, voice low and serious. "Don't do it, Chun-Yan. I cannot guarantee your safety."

Her breathing came in quick, terrified gasps. "Look, Ivan, why don't you just go back to sleep? You're tired. I'm tired. How about we go up to my room and take a nap? I'll even sleep up there with you."

Ivan smiled. "Yeah, let's do that," he said as they stood up together and went to her room.

Chun-Yan laid down on her bed, saving room for Ivan next to her. She snuggled up to her best friend and closed her eyes, pretending to fall asleep as he fell asleep as well. Once she was certain he was asleep, she slowly crept out of his grasp and went to find the phone.

Ivan woke up the moment she left the room. His eyes flew open, realizing that Chun-Yan was not with him. He ran down the stairs and found her, picking up the knife off the floor and stabbing it into her like he did with her father.

He knelt next to the body of his best friend. "Chun, why can't you just be a good girl and listen to me for once?" he softly asked her unmoving body. "Why can't you just listen to me?" Tears streamed down his cheeks as he washed the knife in the sink and put it back in the drawer where he got it. "You can't save anyone…"

.

Ivan sat up in his bed, his heart racing at a rapid pace. He was wearing his pajamas and checked his clock on his phone. It was three in the morning. What was going on? When did he get home? And what the hell kind of a dream was that?

He shook his head to rid himself of the memory of that horrible dream. Going without sleep for so long must have given him those weird dreams. He got out his phone to call Chun-Yan, but she didn't answer. Of course she wouldn't. It was the middle of the night, after all. Unlike Ivan, she actually slept.

Ivan sighed and put his phone on the charger. He got his backpack out and decided to do his homework. All he wanted was a distraction from any thoughts of that terrifying nightmare. He didn't want to think about anything having to do with murdering anyone, especially his precious Chun-Yan…

Hopefully everything would be better when he saw her at school later.


	2. Chapter 2

Ivan walked toward the school the next morning and saw about thirty students gathered around the flagpole holding hands with their heads bowed. The flag was at half-mast. What was going on? He had never seen something like that before. As far as he could remember no presidents or teachers at the school had died.

When he walked into the school, he saw many people crying, especially the girls on the cheer squad. Those were Chun-Yan's other friends. He couldn't help but wonder where she was. Surely if she was at school, she'd be there comforting them.

Ivan quickly got out his phone to call her. He got her voicemail, so he left her a voicemail. "Chun, where are you? Everyone at school is crying, and I can't find you anywhere. It makes me nervous. Call me back when you get this." He hung up and sighed, walking to the spot where he met with Chun-Yan every morning.

The Literature teacher, Mr. Kirkland, walked over to Ivan and frowned. "I'm sorry, Ivan," he softly said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I know you look fine on the outside, but it's okay to just let it all out. Would you like to come with me?"

"What do you mean?" Ivan asked. He gave Mr. Kirkland a confused look. "I don't understand what you're talking about. Does it have to do with why everyone is crying and praying?"

"You mean to tell me you don't know?" Mr. Kirkland asked. He looked troubled for a moment. "Here, come with me, Ivan. I'm going to have to take you to Mr. Williams's office with me."

"Is something wrong?" Ivan asked. "I don't know what's going on or why it would concern me." He paused for a moment. "Wait, does it concern me?"

Mr. Kirkland was quiet for a moment. "Yes," he softly stated. "It does, Ivan. And I didn't want to have to be the one to tell you. But I would be more comfortable telling you with another adult present."

"Telling me what?" Ivan asked, following Mr. Kirkland to the guidance counselor's office. He began to sweat. If everyone was crying, what did that mean he would do? What the hell happened to make the flag fly at half-mast? What was going on? Ivan couldn't even think of something horrible enough to make something like that happen, especially something that would have to do with him.

Mr, Kirkland knocked on the door of the guidance couselor's office. "Matthew, are you in there?" he softly asked. "I have Ivan with me."

The door suddenly flew open and Mr. Williams, the guidance counselor appeared in the doorway. He looked at Ivan and frowned. "Please come in," he softly said. "Both of you. I'll make a call to the principal to have him fill in for you, Arthur."

Mr. Kirkland nodded and ushered Ivan into the office. "Ivan, please have a seat. We need to discuss something rather important with you." Where Ivan once found his British accent fun to listen to, he now found it twinged with stress and made him worry.

As soon as Mr. Williams put the phone down, he turned to Ivan. "Ivan, are you aware of what occurred last night?"

Ivan shook his head. "I have no idea what you're talking about. Could someone please explain this to me? Why is everyone crying? Why is everyone praying around the flagpole? What is going on? I just want answers, dammit."

Mr. Kirkland took a deep breath. "Are you wondering where Chun-Yan Wang is today?" he softly asked.

Ivan looked up at him. "Do you know something I don't know?"

"There is no easy way to say this, so I'll tell you straight out," Mr. Kirkland said before taking a deep breath. "Chun-Yan's brother Leon came home last night and found his sister and father dead."

"No," Ivan quietly said, shaking his head. "She's not dead. I can't accept that. Chun can't be dead. She can't." His deep blue eyes filled with tears. "She's my only friend. She can't be dead…"

"Death is a hard thing to deal with," Mr. Williams softly said. "It's not an easy thing to get over at all. And it's most definitely not an easy thing to accept. It will take some time. I will be here to help you, Ivan."

Ivan shook his head. "No. I don't need a counselor. This is so stupid. Chun-Yan is not dead. I went to her house just last night, and she was alive! She was alive when I saw her!"

Mr. Kirkland sighed and bit his lip, holding back tears. "Oh, Ivan…"

"Who killed her?!" Ivan demanded, slapping his hands on Mr. Williams's desk, causing both men in the room with him to jump. "I demand to know who killed her!" He was trembling with hurt and rage. "I'll fucking kill the bastard who killed my best friend! They deserve to die a slow and painful death!"

Mr. Kirkland sighed. "If I only we knew who it was," he softly said.

"You mean no one has any idea who killed Chun?!" Ivan practically shouted. "Who the fuck is leading this investigation?! Surely they have to have some sort of lead! Yao was an awful man! So many people wanted him dead! I could easily name five off the top of my head! I could lead a better investigation that those stupid officers!"

"Maybe you should head home, Ivan," Mr. Williams gently suggested. "You're not looking too well. Perhaps you should get some rest. Chun-Yan was always worried about you not getting enough sleep. Maybe you could sleep for her."

"Don't bring her into this!" Ivan angrily shouted. "I will not rest until my best friend's murderer is behind bars or dead!" Tears streamed down his face. "This isn't fair! It's not fair! Why did it have to be my best friend?! Couldn't they have killed the best friend of someone with more than one friend?!"

Mr. Kirkland frowned and bit his lip, struggling to keep his own tears in his eyes at the heart-shattering scene before him. He knew he had to stay strong for the boy who was falling apart before him, but he didn't know how much longer he could go without falling apart as well. His knees were beginning to shake.

Mr. Williams's usual calm and composed self was slowly becoming something it wasn't. He was blinking back tears as his glasses were slowly beginning to fog up. He couldn't stand seeing a student in as much pain as Ivan was in, whether it was physical or emotional. He just couldn't do it. It was just something that didn't seem right to him. All he wanted to do was hug him and tell him that everything was going to be okay, but he couldn't do that with another teacher in the room since they weren't supposed to touch students.

Ivan raged on and on for about a half hour before he ran out of steam and fell back onto his chair and buried his face in his hands, crying. "It's not fair," he kept weakly repeating. "It's just not fair."

"You're right," Mr. Williams said. "It's not. And if you ever need to talk, do not hesitate to come to my office, even if it is during class. I'm sure the teachers would understand, right, Mr. Kirkland."

"That is correct, Mr. Williams," Mr. Kirkland agreed with a nod. He sighed. "I must go speak with the librarian before heading back to my classroom. If you'll excuse me, Mr. Williams."

Mr. Williams nodded. "I've got it from here."

"Thank you." Mr. Kirkland set a hand on Ivan's shoulder. "I am so sorry for your loss, Ivan. If you ever need to talk to anyone and Mr. Williams is not here, I'll always listen."

Ivan grunted a soft reply but then just burst back into tears before the teacher walked out of the room.

.

Arthur Kirkland walked into the library and up to the front desk. The librarian had her back to him, so he tugged gently on her long, blonde hair and she turned to him, glaring fiercely, before seeing the look on his face.

"Oh, my God!" she whispered, rushing out from behind the desk and hugging him. "What happened to you, darling?"

Arthur hugged his wife. "Well, Alice, I was the one who had to break the news to Ivan Braginsky…" His eyes filled with tears as he softly whispered. "I had to tell him that his best friend was murdered last night…"

Alice Kirkland gasped and rushed over to a student, quickly asking her to fulfill her spot as librarian before taking Arthur and rushing him into the library office and pulling a curtain over the window so no one could see him crying. "Darling, that's an awful thing! I'm so sorry!"

Arthur sat on the small couch in the library office. "It was so awful. I've never seen that kid so emotional and torn up. It was the most horrid experience of my life." He ran his hands through his hair. "I never want to have to break that kind of news to another kid ever again. You couldn't pay me enough money to do it."

Alice nodded knowingly as she locked the door and walked over to the couch. She sat next to him and grabbed his hands, holding them gently in hers. "I'm so sorry that happened. It's not fair that you had to be the one to tell him. Why didn't the principal tell him?"

"You don't understand," Arthur softly said. "Matt and I are the only adults he actually trusts in this school. We're the only ones with no secrets. We're the only ones who haven't betrayed any students or the student body as a whole. Well, other than you. But we're the only male teachers who have been here the whole time he has."

"I understand," Alice said with a nod. "I've only been here for one year." She squeezed his hands. "I'm just scared to go out at night, or alone for that matter, with that murderer on the loose."

Arthur nodded. "From now on, let me get the things the family needs. I want you and the boys to stay at home, got it? Until that lunatic is caught, it's straight to and from school for you, Allistor, Seamus, and Dylan."

"But that's dangerous for you," Alice said, green eyes wide.

"That's what the father's role is," Arthur said. "The father does the dangerous things, especially when his wife has three boys at home under the age of seven. Please don't even let them play outside."

Alice nodded. "Yes," she softly said. She kissed his cheek. "You worry a lot, but I will respect your wishes."

"Alice, you can never be too careful when there's a murderer on the loose," Arthur sighed out, lacing his fingers between hers. "Just please do it."

"I already agreed to, Arthur," she sighed before they both heard the bell for the end of the first period. She quickly kissed her husband's lips. "There's your cue to get to your classroom. I love you, and I hope you have a better day, okay?"

"I'll try, love," Arthur sighed, standing up. He blew her a kiss and began his walk back to his classroom. He just hoped that Matthew convinced Ivan to go home, otherwise he'd have to see him in fifth period and try not to cry once more. He didn't know if he'd be able to handle that.

.

Matthew Williams sat in the courtyard outside of the school after Anya Bragninsky came to pick up her son. He had quietly explained what had happened, and the poor woman burst into tears with her son. He had to calm both of them down in his office, which took yet another hour or so, but what else were they paying him for?

He had decided to retreat to the courtyard before having to deal with the students who would come to him after the assembly that would announce Chun-Yan Wang's death. What was going to go on?

His eyes gazed up into the sky. "Chun-Yan, if you can hear me, please help Ivan today," he softly said. "He needs you so badly. You were all that he had. Help him find peace and closure with what happened to you. He needs it. Also, please help him rest. He needs his sleep." He looked down. "He needs so much more than that, but I'm sure you already know that."

"Talking to the dead?" a boy asked, coming out from behind a bush. He had striking white hair and red pupils in his eyes. He sat next to Matthew on the bench.

"Hey, Gilbert," Matthew greeted. "What can I help you with?"

"Did you talk to Ivan?" Gilbert asked, leaning against the bench and lighting a cigarette that he pulled from a pack in his pocket.

"No smoking on school grounds," Matthew scolded, glancing over at him.

"What are you going to do?" Gilbert scoffed. "You going to snitch on me, Matt?"

"That's 'Mr. Williams' to you," Matthew reprimanded.

"Yeah, whatever," Gilbert sighed, taking a deep inhale. "You know, I'm going to miss that small Asian girl. She was a cutie. I mean, I'll miss her energy at football games. She was always the funnest cheerleader to watch." He glanced over at Matthew. "When I finish this, can we go talk in your office until the assembly? I'm very troubled and down today."

Matthew smiled warmly at him. "Sure thing, Gilbert."

The boy smiled at him. "Thanks, man. You know, out of all of the other assholes who work here, you're not as much of one."

"I guess I can accept that compliment," Matthew sighed. "You need to work on your people skills."

"Isn't it your job to teach me them?"

Matthew sighed. "Just shut up, Gil."

.

Ivan sat in his room and got out his journal. He wrote down every person he could think of that would want Yao Wang dead. It turned out to be a fairly long list. Now all he had to do was find a way to narrow it down. But how?

He thought for a moment. He tried to think of who would want Chun-Yan dead, but he couldn't think of anyone who would. She was always so happy and peppy and brought a smile to the faces of all people she ever came across. Who the fuck in their right mind would want her dead?

Ivan held his head in his hands. Surely there had to be an easier way to narrow things down. Maybe someone broke into the house after he left and killed them. If only he could remember what time he had left so he could narrow it down that way! He cursed himself for not even being able to remember something as simple as the time that he left his own friend's house the night she was murdered. Why was he so useless?

He looked at a picture of him and Chun-Yan that was framed on his desk. It was from their freshman year of high school. He was giving her a piggyback ride in the picture and both were laughing.

"Don't worry, Chun," he told the beautiful, laughing girl in the picture. "I'll find whoever did this, and I'll make them pay."


	3. Chapter 3

Alfred Jones, the school quarterback, ran into Arthur after school. "Woah, hey, Mr. K," he greeted. "Sorry about that. I have to call my dad and ask him to come pick me up. Practice was cancelled because of what happened to Chun-Yan." He sighed. "It's such a shame. She was so cool, you know?" His face contorted with sadness.

"Have you been in to see your brother?" Arthur asked Alfred, giving him a concerned look. "I know the two of you don't always get along, but he is the school counselor. Maybe you should go in and get an appointment with him."

"I don't want to see him," Alfred protested. He looked up at Arthur with fire in his eyes. "And he's my half-brother, got it? There's no way he's fully related to me, okay?" He glared up at Arthur before his gaze faltered and he became a sobbing mess. "Why did it have to be her, Mr. K? Couldn't it have just been someone else? Why Chun-Yan?"

"A lot of people have been asking that today," Arthur sighed, patting Alfred's back. "It hasn't been an easy day for anyone."

"I'd assume not," Alfred sighed. "Especially for the teachers, right?" He frowned and blinked back the next overflow of tears that threatened to break free. "I'm sorry, Mr. K. I didn't mean to sound so rude just then. It's just been the worst day ever."

"You can say that again," Arthur sighed. "Meet me in my classroom in five if you'd like to continue this conversation. I need a smoke break."

"I thought you gave that up," Alfred said, following him out the back entrance of the school.

Arthur sighed. "If you gave up a vice like that and something like this happened two weeks later, would you refrain from smoking?" He reached into his pocket for his pack of cigarettes and lighter. After the silence that seemed to last forever, he simply said, "I didn't think so." He groaned. "Although this will set me back a bit, I don't know how I'll last the rest of the day without it."

Alfred sighed. "I mean, it's your life and you're older than me, so it's not like I can tell you what to do," he said with a shrug. "I know plenty of people who do it on school grounds, even though you're not supposed to."

"Oh yeah?" Arthur asked. He gave Alfred a cross look. "Sue me."

"Who knows, maybe when I join the NFL I'll have enough money to," Alfred teased, smirking at his literature teacher.

"Don't count all of your ducks before they hatch," Arthur stated, placing the cigarette between his lips and lighting it. "You could break your leg before an important game. You just never know the kinds of things that could happen."

"I guess you're right," he sighed, looking up at the sky. "But I'd rather focus on the positive instead of the the negative, you know?"

Arthur nodded, taking a drag of the cigarette. "I get that," he stated with a nod. He blew the smoke from his mouth and glanced out of his mouth to see it hovering toward the student. "Al, step back, love." The term of endearment escaped his mouth before he could stop it and he quickly clamped his mouth shut, awkwardly standing there next to him.

Alfred stepped back, ears turning red on the top. He stayed silent as well, awkwardly standing there next to his teacher. "So do you know if the police have any leads?" he finally asked. "I know you're usually up-to-date on things."

"Not a clue," Arthur stated, glad that Alfred came up with something to forgive his blunder. He glanced over at the football star and put his cigarette back into his mouth, taking another deep drag of it. "Hopefully we'll all know more by tomorrow," he sighed out, letting the smoke drift from his mouth once more. His green eyes flicked over to his young companion "Why did you join me out here, Alfred, when I told you to wait by my classroom?"

"We're all lost today, Mr. Kirkland," Alfred softly said. "That means you are as well. No one really, truly wants to be alone. You and I both know that." He placed a hand on his teacher's shoulder. "So I don't want you to be alone either. Whether a teacher or student, what happened last night is still terrifying for anyone."

"You're right," Arthur stiffly stated. "I'm terrified to see if there will be any more victims…"

"Please don't say that, Mr. Kirkland," Alfred said, trembling slightly. "You never know what will happen in the future or what it has in store for anyone. What if one of us is a victim?"

"Tell me, Alfred, have you ever done anything to anyone that would make them hate you enough to make them want to kill you?" Arthur asked, turning to the young quarterback.

Alfred quickly shook his head. "No, sir, not at all!" he quickly answered. "I've learned in life that if I want to make it smoothly in life I need to get along with as many people as I can!"

"Then you would have nothing to fear," Arthur said, returning to his cigarette. He took a couple more drags of it and the crushed it under his foot. "Come along now. Let's get back inside."

Alfred followed his teacher inside. "Mr. K, are you just as depressed as the other students about all of this?" he asked, frowning. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets and stared at the tiles on the floor as he walked. "I mean, it's terrible what happened to Chun-Yan. I don't even want to imagine how Ivan Braginsky reacted when he found out."

"I was the one who had to tell him," Arthur softly stated, staring at the floor as well.

"You what?" Alfred asked, head snapping up as he looked at his teacher.

"I had to tell Ivan what happened to her," Arthur repeated. "It was the worst thing I ever had to do in my entire life, Alfred. I hope no one ever has to do something like that again."

Alfred pulled a hand from his pocket and placed it on his teacher's shoulder. "You're a great man, Mr. Kirkland. You have a lot of students who look up to you and now I see why."

Arthur came to a stop outside of his room, bringing Alfred to a stop with him. "I don't know about that, Alfred," he sighed. "But I appreciate your kind words to me nonetheless." He nodded to the football star and smiled. "You're a bright kid with an even brighter future. Now if you'd like to process this a little more, come on into my classroom. I have a bit more free time if you'd like to talk more."

"Thank you," Alfred said, accepting the invitation and following Arthur into the room. He sat at a desk by Arthur's and sighed. "I just don't want to believe that she's dead when I saw her just yesterday, being her bouncy, happy self." He frowned. "Why can't you save anybody? Why couldn't I have known that something was going to happen to her? Why couldn't I have just saved her? She didn't deserve to die like that…" Tears pricked his blue eyes.

Arthur frowned, sighing. "It's a cruel world we live in, Alfred," he said. "And it doesn't always work in the way we would like it to."

"But why not?" Alfred asked, the tears spilling out of his eyes and down his cheeks. "I feel so worthless that I couldn't do a goddamn thing to save her! She only lives four houses down from me! Why couldn't I have just done something?!" He pounded his fist onto the desk, startling Arthur. "Why not?!"

"No one knows, Alfred," Arthur softly said. "And what's done is done, I'm afraid. All we can do now is hope and pray that whoever did this to her gets caught."

Alfred stood up. "No!" he yelled. "No! That's not enough! Chun-Yan didn't deserve this! She didn't!" He fell to his knees in front of Arthur and put his head in his teacher's lap, sobbing. "It's not fair!"

Arthur gently stroked Alfred's hair. "It's not," he softly agreed. "It's really not, Alfred. I know. I know it's not fair. But that's just how it is."

.

Matthew walked into his small apartment that evening and closed the door with a dull thud. He leaned heavily against the door as he breathed a sigh of relief. It was nearly ten o'clock that night, and he was just now getting home after filing all of his paperwork from that day. He had talked to over half of the student body that day, and the rest had appointments to talk to him the next day. He was not looking forward to it at all.

Irunya Williams poked her head into the entryway. "Matthew, I thought that was you," she softly said. She saw how exhausted he looked. "Rough day?" she asked, leaning against the wall.

"The worst since I started there," Matthew sighed, opening his eyes to look at his beautiful wife. He took in her features, her platinum-blonde hair and beautiful blue eyes. He wanted to memorize the smile she had on her face at seeing him after a long day before he broke the news to her. "I don't know if you heard yet or not, but one of my students was found dead this morning…"

Irunya gasped, putting a hand over her mouth. "What happened to them?!" she asked, grabbing his hand and pulling him into the living room. She pushed him down onto the couch and began making him a mug of cocoa like she usually did on his most stressful days.

Matthew always knew she was a godsend whenever she did that. He was truly grateful for his amazing wife. "She was found stabbed to death in her kitchen early this morning," he answered. "Do you remember that little Chinese girl on the cheer squad at the football games?"

"Not her!" Irunya sadly exclaimed. "Oh, Matthew, that's so sad! She came to join him on the couch while the hot cocoa brewed in the machine. Her head rested on his shoulder while she held his hands in both of hers. "That is a true tragedy right there. I'll bet students were in and out of your office all day."

"They were," he answered. "Today was just a nightmare, and I can't wait for it to be over."

"I believe it," she said with a nod. Irunya frowned and stroked his hands with hers. "Oh, Matthew, I'm so sorry…She was such a lovely girl. How is her boyfriend doing?"

"Boyfriend?" Matthew asked curiously.

"There was a boy who was always around her," Irunya said. "He had hair like mine."

"Oh," Matthew sadly said. "Ivan. He's not doing too well. He came to school and had no idea. Arthur brought him to my office and told him." Matthew frowned at Irunya's gasp of horror. "It was just plain horrible. Ivan freaked out, but we got him calmed enough to go home. But then I had to tell Anya, his mother, and the whole thing almost restarted. Then once those two were gone, Aldrich's grandson Gilbert came out of nowhere and demanded that I talk to him."

"Did you?" Irunya asked. "I thought he was friends with that girl, too."

"Chun-Yan was friends with everyone," Matthew fondly said, remembering the young Chinese girl with a smile. "There wasn't a student who disliked her." He sighed. "But Gilbert is just a nuisance. I have to talk to him or he'll tell his grandfather that I'm neglecting students and I'll get in trouble again."

"For his grandfather being such a respectable principal, you'd think that Gilbert would be more like his sister," Irunya sighed. "The way you talk about him makes me think otherwise."

"Don't get me wrong, Gilbert has his good points," Matthew said. "He's very genuine, and he does care deeply for others. It's just that he also can be a real handful, whereas Monika is very obedient, almost to a fault. That girl would probably jump off of a bridge if an authoritative figure told him to."

Irunya frowned. "It's odd to think that two kids like them are siblings." She then turned her gaze to Matthew. "Kind of like you and Alfred."

"He doesn't like to acknowledge that we're brothers," Matthew sighed. "But I still keep trying. I'm waiting for that day when he'll come to me instead of Arthur for his problems."

Irunya smiled as she heard the spluttering noise that indicated that the hot cocoa was done. "I will be here for you when that day comes," she said, smiling. "I'll be here, smiling alongside you." She kissed him softly. "Now I'll be right back. I'm going to go and get your cocoa. Don't you go anywhere, Mr. Williams."

"I'll make sure not to, Mrs. Williams," he said with his first genuine smile of the day. Though he hadn't admitted it to her out loud, she always made him feel lucky to be alive.

.

Ivan laid awake that night in bed. He couldn't sleep. Not after what happened to Chun-Yan. He wanted so badly to go back in time and hug her one last time. He wanted to hear her voice happily giggle and sigh out how much she loved being best friends one last time. She was taken away from him too soon. It just wasn't fair!

He punched his headboard, hearing it slam against the wall. He hated life and everything about it. What was the point of living if you had no one to share your happiness or experiences with? It was pointless, completely pointless.

Ivan sighed and groaned and then rolled over onto his side. He couldn't get comfortable no matter what, and he couldn't sleep, seeing visions of Chun-Yan in his mind's eye every time he even dared to close his eyes. It made him sick to think that she wasn't here anymore.

"Why did it have to be you?" he asked himself for what felt like the millionth time that day. "Why, Chun? You had so much going for you? Why did you have to die like that?"

Knowing there would never be an answer, he closed his eyes once more and tried for the millionth time that night to fall asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Chun-Yan's funeral was a closed-casket ceremony a week later that brought out the entire student body of her high school. Hundreds of bouquets of flowers decorated the pulpit of the church where her funeral was held. It wasn't really even a funeral, it was what was called a "Celebration of Life", yet there wasn't much celebrating going on as most people were sobbing their eyes out.

Ivan sat in the front row at the service, completely numb. He did not shed a single tear, having already cried out every possible tear at home in the week before the funeral. It still seemed unreal to him, the fact that his best friend was now dead. Now he had no one to talk to, no one to laugh with, no one to hang out with, no one to study with, no one. He just felt numb. That was all that he was by that point, and nothing else.

Arthur Kirkland stood in the back with the other teachers, Matthew Williams by his side. "Bloody awful day for a funeral," he sighed, looking at the pouring rain outside. "This is terrible weather and everything. I was thinking the Almighty One would at least have given Chun-Yan a sunny day to be buried." He sighed once more. "The poor girl. May He rest her soul."

Two sophomore girls came to the back of the room, sniffling. The went straight to Alice, requesting to speak with her and Matthew to try to process what happened with Chun-Yan. Matthew gave Arthur an apologetic look and went to join Alice and the two girls.

Arthur leaned against the wall with a sigh. The whole ceremony was like a nightmare for him. Chun-Yan was one of his favorite students. He always enjoyed reading her essays and book reports, always enjoying what she had to say in them. She had always been one of his brightest, most creative students, and he knew he was going to miss her like hell.

"Mr. K, can we talk?" Alfred asked, walking to the back of the sanctuary. His cheeks were tear-streaked and he looked like a wreck. His eyes were bloodshot and puffy. He personally looked like he had physically dragged himself from his bed and across many other things this morning.

"Of course," Arthur said, taking Alfred to another part of the back of the sanctuary where no one was. "How are you holding up, Al?"

"There are times when I think I'm fine, and then there are times when my world just falls apart," Alfred said, clutching his bangs at the end of his sentence as his voice rose and octave or two with emotion as he began crying all over again.

Arthur was thankful that he had carried an extra handkerchief with him that day. He pulled his brand new one out of his pocket and handed it to Alfred. "Here," he said, offering it to him. "It hasn't been used yet, but you look like you need it more than I do."

Alfred accepted it, sniffling. "Thank you," he softly said. "You're the best, Mr. Kirkland." He dabbed at his eyes with it, not needing to blow his nose just yet. "I honestly don't know what I would've done this past week without you. You've been my rock, and I have no way to truly thank you for what you've done for me."

Arthur smiled kindly to him. "Just knowing that you're going to be okay is enough thanks for me, Alfred," he softly said. "Please take care of yourself and remain in good health. That's all that I ask in return for this."

"I'll remain in good health," Alfred said. "After all, I have to for my football scholarships, remember?" He forced a half-hearted laugh, but both of them knew he wasn't really feeling it at all. "If I'm in top shape, then I'll be guaranteed a spot on a college team, I just know it. And my college will be all paid for."

Arthur gave him a half-smile. "You have it all planned out, don't you?" he asked. "Well I hope it all happens for you."

"Oh it will," Alfred said. "Come to think of it, Chun-Yan helped me out a lot with my college applications and all. I never really got a chance to thank her." He sighed. "Looks like there's another thing that I'll never get to do…"

"Don't think of it like that," Arthur said. "I knew Chun-Yan, and I know she wouldn't want you all sad and gloomy over something as small as not being able to thank her for helping you with a piece of paper. In fact, a way she would want you to thank her is by going to college and giving your all."

"You know, I think you're right, Mr. Kirkland," Alfred said, looking up at him. "Now I see why you were her favorite teacher."

Arthur's green eyes widened. "I was her favorite?" he asked.

"Without a doubt," Alfred said, smiling. "That's why Ivan trusts you so much, you know. It's because she trusted you. You were her favorite and Ivan knew that. Well, I'm pretty sure everyone knew that."

Arthur was so touched that he was suddenly at a loss for words. He had never known that he was Chun-Yan's favorite teacher. He began to tear up at just the thought of it. Why hadn't anyone ever told him that? Now he was the one who was starting to lose it. His hand quickly went to his other handkerchief in his pocket as the tears began to spill from his eyes.

"I have no idea that you didn't know," Alfred softly said. "I thought everyone, including you, knew that." He smiled a little. "Well now you know, even if it is a little too late for you to do anything about it now." He smiled a little. "She adored you, Mr. K."

Arthur smiled through his tears. "I'm glad that she did, because she was my favorite student as well." He wanted to laugh a little, but he knew that wouldn't be appropriate. But what were the odds, to find out such wonderful things, but too late to be able to say nice things in return? Life could be a little too cruel at times. He sighed. "Looks like I'll have to find a new one."

"I know a certain football player who would love that position," Alfred hinted, smiling half-heartedly at him.

"I'll be sure to let him know when I'm ready for it to be filled," Arthur said, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. He sighed and then noticed that it stopped raining outside and that the sun was beginning to peek through the clouds just as the indoor part of the ceremony was ending. "Alfred, it's time to get ready to go to the cemetery."

Alfred nodded. "I'm giving a ride to some of the freshmen here, and Ivan. So I'll catch you later." He stood up and wiped his eyes with the handkerchief before turning back to Arthur. "Thanks, Mr. Kirkland. For everything. You truly are the best teacher. There's no mistaking that."

.

Ivan stood in front of Chun-Yan's closed casket at the cemetery. Many people had gone by then. The only people left were Alfred, Mr. Kirkland and his wife, the freshmen that had ridden with them, and Mr. Williams. He didn't want to leave her yet. He couldn't bring himself to. This was his last time with it being just him and her, forever.

"Hey, Chun, I don't really know how to say goodbye," he softly told her casket. "Is that bad?" He sighed and placed a gentle hand on the glassy finish of her box that held her inside of it. "I guess this is it for us, isn't it? This is the end, Chun-Yan. It was a nice, long run, but I wish things didn't have to end this way. I promise you one thing, though. I promise that I will bring justice to whoever did this to you, even if I have to do it myself. They will pay for what they did." His voice choked a little. "I love you, Chun-Yan. I always have, and I always will. You were the sister that I never had. Just keep doing you up in heaven, and wait for me to get there, okay?" He tapped her casket twice with his hand. "It's been real, Chun. Keep it that way."

"Ready to go?" Alfred asked as Ivan walked up to him.

Unable to speak anymore from overwhelming emotion, Ivan simply nodded and got into Alfred's car along with the freshmen.

Alfred frowned and started up the car, waving to everyone else who was still in the cemetery waiting with them. He sighed and began the drive. "Ivan, you're not looking too hot, so I'll take you home first. Maybe you can get some rest."

"Thank you," Ivan said to him, nodding absently. "I hope that I'll be able to sleep. She was always worried about my insomnia." He gazed out the window at the town as the drove through it. It was the same sights he saw every single day, except now they were dull and gray, just like his heart felt without her.

"Here we are," Alfred said, pulling up outside of the duplex that Ivan lived in. "If you need anything, you have my number. Try to get some sleep, okay?" He frowned and bit his lip as he watched Ivan wander up the front steps and into his side of the duplex.

"Is he okay?" Emil Steilsson, one of the freshmen in the backseat asked him. "He doesn't look too good."

"Chun-Yan was his only friend," Alfred said as he began to drive toward Emil's house. "So he's not doing very well. I'm trying to be a friend to him because I know in my heart that's what's the right thing to do."

"You're very admirable," Lilli Zwingli, a female freshman from the football team, told him. "You're such a nice guy, Alfred. Honestly, I think more people need to be like you and Mr. Williams. Then the world would be a much better place."

Alfred's hands gripped the steering wheel a little tighter in frustration as his brother was mentioned. "Thanks, Lil," he said, sporting a fake smile. "I appreciate it. You're so sweet."

Lilli smiled at him through the rearview mirror. "You're welcome, Al."

Emil sighed and looked out the window. "Could you take Lilli home first?" he suddenly asked. "I don't really want to go home yet."

"Is something wrong?" Alfred asked, raising an eyebrow to him through the rearview mirror. He was concerned by Emil's sudden question. Was something going on at home that he wasn't aware of? After what happened with Chun-Yan, he was sure he could never be too careful anymore.

"That's okay, I have homework anyway," Lilli said. "My big brother probably wants me home as soon as possible. I don't mind being dropped off before Emil." She smiled at her friend next to her, but he didn't even look at her. "Is something wrong?" she asked him.

"Nothing's wrong," he snapped. "I just don't want to go home immediately, okay?" Emil clenched his fists and squeezed his eyes shut, tired of being asked so many questions. "I just don't want to go right now."

"Then I won't take you until you're ready," Alfred said. "But don't get me wrong. I will take you today, just not until you're ready to go back."

"Thank you," Emil said, still staring out the window. "I appreciate it, Alfred."

"Don't mention it, kid," Alfred said. "Now, remind me where you live, Lil. I know I give you occasional rides home from practice, but…"

.

Emil crept into the apartment he lived in with his brother and his brother-in-law later on that evening, hoping to god that they wouldn't notice he was home. He really didn't want to talk to either of them. It had been a long day for him, and he just wanted to be alone.

"Emil, how'd it go?" his older brother Lukas asked, rounding the corner into the front hall and flicking on the light.

Emil stared up at him. "It was fine. A senior took me around with him all day because he didn't want to be alone. He was really good friends with her."

"I remember having my first pet freshman as well," Lukas sighed. "Well Mathias already went to bed. He has to be up at three, so I need you to stay extra quiet tonight."

"Okay," Emil sighed. "I understand."

"I mean it, Emil," Lukas warned. "It's my ass if you make any noise. You know this." He sighed. "Please just do a nice thing for me for once."

"I said okay," Emil hissed at him, narrowing his eyes at his older brother. "If you pester me about it again, I'll slam a fucking door," he threatened. "Don't test me, Lukas. I had a long, difficult day."

Lukas glared at his younger brother. "When we took you in, we didn't do it for you to go and act like this, Emil. We did it so you wouldn't have to move away from your friends, okay? If you're going to be this way, you can go and live with Mom in Iceland."

Emil scowled at him and shrugged his backpack off, holding it testily up high, threatening to let it drop. "I'll do it if you don't stop saying things like that, Lukas. My friend just died, and I don't need you saying shit like that to me when those kinds of things happen."

"And I don't need you using the 'my friend just died' copout to justify your shitty actions," Lukas snarled at him.

Emil dropped the backpack, letting it hit the floor with a loud thudding noise. He knew from the groan in the bedroom nearest them that he had woken his brother-in-law. "Good luck, Luke," he said, picking it up and heading to his room.

"This isn't over," Lukas growled at his brother before hurrying off to his bedroom to explain to his husband what had happened.

.

Matthew laid in bed that night while Irunya slept soundly next to him. He couldn't get the expression on Ivan's face off of his mind. That poor kid looked broken to him. It didn't seem right or fair at all to see a kid look so devastated like that. It nearly destroyed Matthew just looking at him. He couldn't imagine what it must be like to be the poor kid.

He rolled over and looked at his sleeping wife. He wondered what it must be like to be her, sleeping without a care in the world while her husband laid awake all night, haunted by the face of a teenage boy who was like a nightmare in itself.

It was true that most of the school faculty feared Ivan Braginsky, seeing him as a troublemaker, though he never really did cause trouble. He actually was a good student, and he never really did anything wrong. He just looked scary. That was all there was to it. So he wasn't very easy to approach. The only two staff in the entire school that weren't afraid of him, other than the principal were himself and Arthur, which was saying something.

But as Matthew fell asleep that night, he felt bad for Ivan. When he had seen that boy earlier that day, he thought Ivan looked as if he hadn't slept in weeks. Who knows? Maybe he hadn't. Matthew knew that Chun-Yan always worried about Ivan's sleeping habits, and now he knew why. He just hoped that Ivan could get some sleep soon.


	5. Chapter 5

Two Months Later

Everything had calmed down after awhile, and students had gone back to being their regular student selves, all but two, Alfred and Ivan. They had both changed, but in different ways. Alfred was now spending every bit of his free time in Mr. Kirkland's classroom, and Ivan was still getting maybe one or two hours of sleep every night, hellbent on catching the person who killed Chun-Yan. Ivan wanted to make that person pay, no matter what.

Ivan had collected every scrap of evidence that he could about Chun-Yan's murder and kept a scrapbook of it under his bed. He had been interrogated by so many police officers that just the thought of going to another police station made him ill. But it only fueled the fire of his passion to want to catch the person who killed his best friend. He wanted to make that person suffer and pay for what they did.

Every night, he would open up that scrapbook and look over all of the evidence and paper clippings he had collected over the past two months. He hoped eventually he would collect enough evidence for him to find the culprit before the police would. Then he could take matters into his own hands. That was all he wanted in life.

.

"Good morning, Mr. K!" Alfred cheerfully greeted, walking into Arthur's classroom one morning. He smiled at him and waved in greeting. Alfred had grown rather fond of his Literature Comprehension teacher and wanted to help him out with everything he possibly could, whenever he possibly could.

"Ah, good morning, Alfred," Arthur greeted from his desk. He was drinking his morning tea to wake him up. "How are you doing?"

"Can't really complain," Alfred said, pulling up a chair and sitting backwards on it. "What's on your agenda this morning? Do you need any help setting anything up for class?"

Arthur thought for a moment. "Not that I can really think of," he said after a moment. "There isn't really too much going on at the moment in class. I think today is a test for most of my classes, and then reading for the others."

"I have a test, don't I?" Alfred sighed.

The teacher looked at his lesson plan. "Nope. Your class has reading and a test in three days. Get studying, Jones."

"What do I even need this class for anyway?" Alfred sighed, leaning back in his chair.

"This class is an alternative to English class, which is taught by my wife," Arthur answered. "Now, would you rather learn from me or her?"

"You have a point," Alfred answered. "I'll stick to your class." He gave a curt nod to prove his point. "Mr. Kirkland, why do you drink tea every morning instead of coffee?"

"Because tea tastes better and doesn't leave a strong aftertaste in your mouth," Arthur simply answered. "Plus tea is just wonderful. I think everyone should drink tea in the morning."

"I didn't ask you to sell me the product," Alfred stated, smirking. "I was just asking for a simple answer."

Arthur smirked back at him. "Then don't ask my opinion, Alfred." He reached for a pen on his desk, not realizing that Alfred reach for it at the same time.

Their hands met and they just left them like that for a few moments, both registering it in their heads but neither wanting it to end. A soft blush came upon both of their faces, but they both quickly looked away, hands lingering together for as long as they could hold them like that.

It was Arthur who finally pulled his hand away. "Sorry, Alfred," he said, pretending to clear his throat. "I didn't realize you were also reaching for that same pen."

"It's fine, Mr. K," Alfred answered. "It's your pen, after all. I should've asked first."

"Feel free to use it," Arthur said. "It's fine. I don't mind."

The two dared to glance at each other. They didn't realize how embarrassed the other was until they saw how red their faces were. Both of them quickly looked away and held their breaths, not wanting to make things awkward. But instead, they just made things even more awkward by doing so.

Arthur hadn't flirted with someone like this since he had first met Alice, and he certainly had never flirted with another male before. This was something new and exciting to him, especially since this was his student. Then again, he knew he would get into deep trouble if anyone found out about any of this. But what was he supposed to do, tell Alfred he could never come back? That didn't seem fair. And he did enjoy the quarterback's company, he had to admit.

Alfred had always wanted his teacher to notice him in this way, but now that he had been so forward, he wondered if he had been too forward. It gave his stomach more than just a tingling feeling. It was more like an electroshock feeling. And he wasn't sure how to truly go about feeling it….

.

Matthew heard a knock on his door. He looked up from his desk. "Come in," he stated. When his door didn't open, he sighed and walked across the room to open it. "Hello," he said to the student waiting at the door.

At the door stood Eduard Von Bock, the captain of the debate team. He had his arms folded over his chest and was glaring at Matthew through his glasses. "Good morning, Mr. Williams."

"Good morning, Eduard," Matthew greeted, trying to understand why his student looked so angry with him. "What brings you here today?"

"As you know, I am captain of the debate team," Eduard began, causing Matthew to nod his acknowledgement. "The school says they won't be funding that this year. Do you know why?"

"I don't," Matthew answered, shaking his head. "Why don't you take that up with the principal?"

"Maybe I will," Eduard huffed. "Good day, Mr. Williams."

"Bye," Matthew said, shutting his door. "Fuckin' hate that kid," he muttered under his breath on his way back to his desk. "Always coming and pestering me for things that aren't even my job to cover just because he thinks I'm a pushover."

.

Gilbert Beilschmidt was waiting around the office corner as Eduard rounded it, ready to pounce. "Stop giving Matt a hard time," he lectured the moment he saw Eduard. "He won't give you what you want if he can't obtain it, you know."

"And just what would you know about Ma-I mean, Mr. Williams?" Eduard scoffed at Gilbert.

"Lots of things!" Gilbert cheerfully replied. "And don't forget that there are a lot of things I know about you and your precious debate team." He smirked. "Don't forget whose family runs this precious institute. If I went to my grandfather with all of the information I had on you, I could get your ass kicked out of here in a matter of days."

Edward narrowed his eyes at Gilbert through his glasses. "Like you would even dare, Beilschmidt," he growled. "I know things about your grandfather that would make him deemed unfit to run a high school as prestigious as ours."

Gilbert grabbed Eduard by his collar and slammed him against a nearby wall. "Wanna try to say something like that again, Von Bock?" he demanded in a low growl. "Next time you threaten to blackmail the Beilschmidt family, you had better think twice before even delivering a threat like that."

"Break it up, boys! Not in these halls!" Alice Kirkland yelled, storming over to them. "Gilbert, you let go of Eduard this instant!"

"Teacher's pet," Gilbert snarled at Eduard, letting go of his collar. "Consider this your only warning."

Eduard took a deep, dramatic gasp for breath when Gilbert pulled away. "Thank you, Mrs. Kirkland!" he gratefully said. "I thought he was going to kill me!"

"Pansy," Gilbert scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"That is enough out of you, Gilbert Beilschmidt," Alice commanded. "Go straight to Mr. Williams's office right now!" She pointed toward the door. "I will not tolerate you bullying innocent students just because your grandfather is the principal here!"

"Yeah," Gilbert said. "Innocent. Right." He spit on the floor by her shoes. "Let him get back to you on that, Kirkland." Gilbert shoved his hands in his pockets and walked to Matthew's office, knocking on the door. "Yo, Williams! Let me in! Mrs. K says I have to!"

Matthew came to answer the door. "Jesus, Gilbert, what did you do this time?" he softly asked, letting the young albino boy in. He closed the door. "Just about every time I turn my goddamned back you get in trouble and get sent here because I'm the only one who will deal with you. Are you doing all this on purpose?"

"You think I'm getting in trouble on purpose so I can hang out in your stupid Canadian wonderland that smells like maple syrup?" Gilbert asked, gesturing to the Canadian flags around Matthew's office. "Forget about it." He crossed his arms. "I was just dealing with one of our rat issues here. And by rat, I mean Eduard Von Bock. He's getting on my nerves, and I can't stand him. Come to think of it, he sure comes to pester you a lot."

"Not nearly as often as you, but go on," Matthew sighed, looking through his paperwork on his desk. "So what did you do to Eduard to make Alice send you here?"

"I grabbed him by his collar and slammed him against a wall," Gilbert said, "no big deal. It's not like I actually hit him yet. I was going to, but I didn't yet. She stopped me before I could. Stupid bitch. I say she should've let me hit him. Maybe he could have learned a lesson on trying to blackmail my grandfather."

"He tried to do what?" Matthew asked, looking up.

"You heard me," Gilbert said. "Did I fucking stutter, Matt? He tried to blackmail my grandfather, who is giving him an education!"

"That's not right," Matthew stated. "But I can't justify fighting where the teachers can see you. Next time, don't beat him up on school grounds, okay?" He rubbed his temples. "Damn, Gilbert, you are the reason my paperwork keeps piling up, you know that?"

"I do," Gilbert said. "But do you think I care?" He shook his head. "I like visiting you, Matt. It's not my fault you dismiss me to the world out there."

Matthew sighed. "Just shut up and sit, Gilbert."

.

Ivan was more than happy to get out of school that day. He had more research to do. There was so much more to find out about the person who killed Chun-Yan. He couldn't be kept back for anything. His mind and heart wouldn't let him. All that he was focused on was finding the bastard who had killed her. He didn't want anything else, just to find whoever did it.

When he got home, he went straight up to his room and got out his scrapbook. He flipped to the last few pages, the ones he was trying to memorize. There was so much more he wanted to know. There were too many blanks in the case, but the most glaring one of all was that there were no leads at all. It was so frustrating to him. Why weren't there any leads yet?! It had been two months already!

He felt as if he were dying from anticipation! What was going on? What were the police doing? Where was everything going? How could he find anymore leads?

Ivan suddenly felt tired and yawned. Perhaps he could nap a little bit before getting straight down to business. That might help clear his mind a little more to focus.

As he laid down, he felt his eyes close before his head hit the pillow. His dreams came fitfully as he dreamed of waking up late at night and leaving his room.

In his dream, he grabbed his keychain boxcutter from the drawer in their kitchen. He pocketed it carefully and left the house for a walk.

Someone was walking ahead of him as he turned onto a random street. They were on a cell phone and yelling into it. Ivan had a headache and didn't like that. He knocked the cell phone from the person's hand, noticing it was Eduard Von Bock.

"Watch it!" Eduard snapped, before turning to notice it was Ivan. "You just broke my phone, Braginsky! Now what am I supposed to do! It looks like I'll have to borrow more money from the school fund! Do you know if I keep doing that, I'm going to get caught?"

Ivan blankly stared at him. He didn't care what Eduard had to say, he just didn't like him at all, and he didn't care much for rudeness to this degree, even if he was dreaming. He reached for Eduard's arm and bent it behind him at an awkward angle, listening to the bones in it crunch.

Eduard cried out in pain, but there was no one around to hear him as Ivan dragged him by his broken arm into a dark alleyway. "What are you doing?" Eduard whimpered. "Braginsky, look, we can make a deal! I didn't mean to be rude! I'm sorry! If you stop now, I won't press any charges, I swear!"

Ivan threw him on the ground, keeping silent. He then got out the boxcutter, the blade of it gleaming in the moonlight above them. A dark smile broke out on his face as he watched Eduard squirm in discomfort as he passed the blade back and forth between his hands. "Scared, Eduard?" he taunted.

The debate team captain gulped and nodded. "Yes," he softly answered.

"As you should be," Ivan said, stomping on his legs to hold him in place. "Do you want it to be slow or fast?"

"What do you mean?" Eduard stammered.

"I'll kill you slowly, like I did with Yao," he suggested, glancing to the knife as he slowly glided it through the air. "Or I can kill you quickly like I did with Chun-Yan." He made a sharp, stabbing movement.

"Wait, it was you who killed Chun-Yan?" Eduard asked, eyes wide. "But why did you act so torn up? Why did you demand to get revenge? What's going on?!"

"You talk too much," Ivan complained. "I'll kill you quickly." He brought the blade of the boxcutter to Eduard's jugular and stabbed it in, yanking it across the boy's throat. A smile of satisfaction came across his lips when he felt Eduard stop breathing. "Maybe this could've been more fun if you would've talked less, Eduard."

Ivan rolled up Eduard's sleeve and took the boxcutter to it. He swiftly carved into the tender skin of his inner left forearm: "I AM ASLEEP". Satisfied with his work, he inspected his clothes for traces of blood. Finding none, he went down by the river to rinse off the boxcutter before heading home.

.

Ivan woke up the next morning with a start. He was wearing his same clothes from the dream, but they didn't smell like outdoors. He then ran to the kitchen, but the boxcutter was where it always was without a trace of blood on it. Somehow, he had to stop having weird dreams like that...


	6. Chapter 6

Gilbert was dragged into Matthew's office first thing the next morning by two police officers. His crimson eyes rested on Matthew and Aldrich Beilschmidt, the principal and also his grandfather. Both men looked highly disappointed, Matthew also looking slightly horrified. Confused, he sat in a chair and was instantly handcuffed to it.

"Opa, what the fuck?!" he demanded, turning his gaze to the elderly man in the room.

Aldrich stared back evenly, his sky blue gaze unblinking. His hair once blond was now a snowy white like Gilbert's and slicked back so it didn't fall in his eyes like Gilbert's did. "Do not speak to me in such a manner," he growled to his delinquent grandson.

Gilbert turned to Matthew. "Matt, what the fuck?!"

"We've been through this before, Gilbert," Matthew sighed. "My name is Mr. Williams."

"I don't give a fuck!" Gilbert shouted at him. "Why am I cuffed to a goddamn chair?!"

Matthew sighed. "Eduard Von Bock was found dead this morning, Gilbert. After your actions yesterday, we have reason to believe-"

"That I did it?!" Gilbert demanded. "You sick, twisted fucks!" His face contorted into a pained expression. "I may have hated that son of a bitch, but how could I make his life hell if he was dead?!" He looked up at Aldrich. "You seriously think I would kill someone, Opa?"

Aldrich's face remained hard as stone as he regarded Gilbert. "When it concerns something like this, we can't let emotions get in the way of our judgement."

Matthew looked down, feeling bad for Gilbert.

"Who, may I ask, gave you this false lead?" Gilbert asked around the lump in his throat as he struggled to blink back tears. Whoever it was had a lot of nerve, that was for sure. He struggled to think back to who it could've been that would've thought he'd kill Eduard.

"Alice saw you bullying and threatening him yesterday," Aldrich stated stiffly.

"Mrs. Kirkland?!" Gilbert shouted incredulously. "Just wait until I get out of this fucking chair! That bitch will hear it from me!"

"Gilbert, you're not understanding," Matthew said, looking up at the boy. "You're under suspicion of murder right now."

"I didn't fucking kill anyone!" Gilbert shouted. "How many fucking times do I have to say it?!" Tears of betrayal and frustration streamed down his cheeks. "I didn't fucking kill Eduard! Investigate it all you want! I didn't fucking do it!"

The door suddenly flew open as Alfred stood there panting. "Mattie! Eduard Von Bock is dead!" he yelled. His eyes suddenly took in the scene before him. "Shit…" he muttered.

"Mr. Jones, you must learn to knock before entering an office," Aldrich scolded. "You must also learn to address staff properly, family or otherwise." He narrowed his eyes at his grandson. "That goes for you as well, Gilbert."

Alfred bowed his head. "I apologize, Mr. Beilschmidt," he said.

"Apology accepted, now please leave our presence, Alfred." Aldrich turned back to Gilbert. "We have some important business to attend to."

"Right away, sir," Alfred said, grabbing the doorknob. He looked up at Matthew who frowned and nodded, then he left.

Gilbert looked toward the door as the officers locked it and stood in front of it. "What?" he asked them. "You think I can possibly escape this? I'm scrawny as hell!"

Matthew frowned. "Gilbert, what were you doing last night?" he asked. "And please tell the truth."

"I was at home," Gilbert answered. "If you don't believe me, call my mom. She'll tell you. I was playing video games and went to bed around midnight. Ask her if you don't believe me."

"Until your alibi is proven true, you will be taken into police custody," Aldrich said, turning away from him. "Gentlemen, if you would."

The officers uncuffed Gilbert from the chair and handcuffed him behind his back before leading him from the room, ignoring his cries of, "Opa, please! I didn't do it! Just listen to me!"

Matthew silently sighed to himself as his heart broke, wondering how Aldrich could so heartlessly send his own grandson to jail for murder.

.

Alfred burst into Arthur's classroom like an avalanche. "Mr. K! Mr. K!" he panted. "Eduard Von Bock is dead, and now Gilbert is in Mattie's office being questioned by the police!" He fell into a chair next to Arthur's desk and laid his head on it. "What's going on?"

Arthur sighed and placed his tea on the desk. "If I were to tell you what's going on, you are not to tell another soul. Can I trust you with this information, Alfred?" He watched his student closely as the young man nodded. "Gilbert is being suspected for the murder of Eduard Von Bock." Arthur bit his lip as he waited for Alfred's reaction.

Alfred looked up at Arthur. "Who the fuck would think that Gilbert would kill someone?" he asked, eyes filling with tears. He took off his glasses and set them on Arthur's desk. "Look, Gil may have some issues, but he would never kill anyone, Mr. Kirkland!"

"You're not going to like this, Al," Arthur sighed.

"It was your wife, wasn't it?" Alfred asked. "She's always been a total snitch when it comes to him." He pounded his fist on Arthur's desk when he saw him nod. "Goddammit, Mr. K…"

"Alfred, please don't-"

"I always knew she hated Gilbert, but this is going too far," the quarterback angrily stated. "Mr. Kirkland, you can't seriously be backing her up on this! Even you know Gil well enough to know he wouldn't kill anyone!"

"What would you do in my situation, Alfred?" Arthur irritably asked. "It's either I side with my wife, or I side with my students. Either way, someone is going to be mad at me."

Alfred groaned. "This whole thing just fucking sucks, Mr. K," he sighed.

"I second that," Arthur sighed back. His eyes flicked over to Alfred. He hated seeing him so distressed. It upset him deeply. "Listed, Al, I know that you're hurting, but I have reason to believe that your day will get better."

"How?" Alfred miserably asked.

Arthur cautiously placed a hand on top of his student's. "Take in and enjoy the little things."

Alfred looked up and Arthur and smiled before interlacing their fingers. "Yeah, I guess I really should."

.

Emil sat alone in the library that afternoon. It wasn't like anyone normally bothered him anyway. He didn't exactly have any friends to speak of other than Lilli Zwingli, but she was always too busy with football and partying to come and spend time with him. Besides, he liked being alone. At least, he thought he did.

A boy his age sat across the table from him. The boy had wavy, dark hair and dark eyes. He was none other than Chun-Yan's younger brother, Leon Wang.

"Can I help you?" Emil asked, blankly staring up at him. Just the thought of someone sitting at his table with him annoyed him. He tried to make sure the look on his face conveyed that.

"I don't mean to bother you," Leon began.

"Well you obviously do, or you wouldn't be here, but please go on." Emil went back to working on his homework.

Leon bowed his head, staring down at the table. "I'm Leon Wang, Chun-Yan's younger brother. I saw you at my sister's funeral, and I've been wanted to talk to you since then."

Emil glanced up at him. "Why?"

"You're my age, and you seem pretty cool," Leon began. "Also, you don't seem like you have many friends."

"There's a reason for that, Wang." Emil turned a page in his textbook. "I prefer to be alone."

"Oh." Leon stood up. "I-I'll leave you alone for now then."

"Yeah, thanks," Emil muttered as he watched Leon walk away. Deep down, he wondered how long "for now" was.

.

Alfred ran into Matthew in the hallway later on that day. He almost wanted to turn around and walk the other way, but then he saw Matthew's face and wanted to kick himself for even thinking of wanting to do such a thing. His older half-brother's face looked so upset and distraught that it made Alfred pity him.

"How are you holding up, Mattie?" Alfred asked, making sure there were no teachers around to report him for calling Matthew by his first name.

"It's been another rough day, Al," Matthew answered with a sigh.

"What, uh, what happened to Gilbert?" the younger brother asked, trying not to sound too concerned for his friend, but he knew how obvious he really was.

"He's in police custody," Matthew softly said. "The poor kid. If only you could've seen him. You would know he really is innocent. Gil wouldn't kill anyone."

"So you know that as well," Alfred sighed, looking up that the ceiling. "Goddammit, Mattie. There has to be something I can do."

"Do you play online games with him?" Matthew asked, glancing over at Alfred. "Because unless if you were last night, then there's nothing you can do at all."

"I don't," Alfred said, biting his lip. He thought for a few moments. "But I think I might know someone who does. I'll ask around for you, but I won't use your name."

"Thanks, Al," Matthew said.

"Oh, don't mention it," he said. "I want to clear my friend's name just as badly as you do. I know my friend is innocent, and I will prove it to anyone who dares to challenge it." He then took off down the hallway.

Matthew smiled, watching his younger brother go. He didn't even care that Alfred was practically running. At that moment, he wanted Gilbert proved innocent just as badly as the whole student body did, so why he care if one student was running in the halls? Why should he give a care when Aldrich Beilschmidt turned against his own grandson right before his eyes just that morning?

.

Ivan sat back in Arthur Kirkland's class and sighed, tapping his pencil against his desk. It was yet another day of reading, and he had already finished his book. Since Eduard Von Bock was found dead that morning, no students were permitted to leave the classrooms that day. It was so stupid, so Ivan just had to sit there, bored.

He looked over at Alfred Jones, who was sitting in the desk next to the teacher's, talking quietly with Mr. Kirkland about something. Ivan figured it had something to do with his book because he always considered Alfred an idiot whose brains were in his muscles instead of his head. Ivan sighed and turned to face the board. His eyes then went to the clock. Ten more minutes of this class and then school was out for the day. He couldn't wait.

"Just stay after class then," he heard Mr. Kirkland say to Alfred. Ivan smirked, thinking that Alfred didn't understand anything.

Then Ivan thought to himself about why he was mentally being so hateful toward Alfred when it was Alfred who was always going out of his way to be so kind of him lately. He didn't understand it, but it kinda pissed him off how Alfred would do that. Ivan didn't consider himself a charity case now that his best friend was dead. He didn't know why he was getting so angry over it.

His hand clenched around his pencil as the school bell sounded in his ears. Great, a reason to get away from Alfred. He got up and hurried from the room so he didn't even have to look at that glasses-wearing quarterback. His jaw clenched, he hurried off toward the busses, wanting to get home fast.


	7. Chapter 7

Alice Kirkland looked over at her husband as they laid in bed later that evening, concerned. "Arthur," she softly said, "have you been overworking yourself?" She frowned in pity and ran her fingers through his messy hair. "I don't want you to become stressed."

"I'm fine," Arthur answered. "I've just been stressed out with the whole thing that happened with Gilbert and all of that."

"He's where he needs to be," Alice told Arthur. "That boy really needs help."

That made Arthur pause for a moment. "What do you mean? Gilbert Beilschmidt is a normal teenage boy. There's nothing wrong with him as far as I can tell." He pondered it for a moment. "He may come across as rough and uncaring, but he really does mean well when it all comes down to it."

"Where do you get that from Gilbert? He's lazy and never likes to do his work in class," Alice stated. "He comes to the library just to chat with his friends and laze around. Gilbert Beilschmidt never means anything."

"That's where you're wrong," Arthur stated, getting defensive. "Gilbert would never kill another person. I know that for a fact."

"You're only saying that because your favorite student is friends with him," Alice scoffed, turning her head away. "Don't think I don't know that you've grown rather close to Alfred Jones lately."

Arthur felt himself becoming angry. "And if I am? The boy needs help to pass his classes if he wants to get into college. Maybe you could help him sometime, Alice. Wait, you can't, because he doesn't want to take your English classes because they're too hard."

"It's not my fault that my students are smarter than yours," Alice stiffly stated. She turned off her bedside lamp and threw the covers over her. "If you have nothing more to say, then I bid you goodnight."

Arthur felt he had plenty more to say, but he wasn't about to start a fight when he had to get up early the next morning. He was frustrated that she got the final word, but he turned off his light as well and just laid in bed for awhile.

His mind wandered to the things she said about Alfred. He was so angry that she brought him up like that. Alfred had nothing to do with any of this. Alfred wouldn't want anything to do with this. Yet why did it make him so angry that she had brought him into their fight? His mind wouldn't stop thinking about it until he forced himself into an unsettling sleep.

.

One Week Later

Ten-year-old Peter Oxenstierna walked into the dining room at his house. There was a tension that was almost tangible as his two fathers, Berwald and Tino, sat at the dinner table, waiting for him. He gulped and took his usual seat, staring at his plate. He didn't want to know what hateful things they had been saying to each other before he walked into the room.

Tino's mouth was in a firm, tight line as he glared at his husband. His gaze softened as he looked over at his son. "How was school today, Peter?" he asked his son, smiling his usual carefree smile that he used whenever he was talking to him. "Did you have fun?"

"Yeah," Peter softly responded, looking up at him. He could tell that his fathers had been fighting, and also that Berwald was drunk. That never ended well. He knew he needed to cooperate at dinner or Tino would probably get the worst of it. "Some of the kids at school keep asking when they can come over."

Tino looked up at Berwald and grimaced, seeing that Berwald wasn't looking at him. "Maybe soon, Peter," he said. "I'll talk with your father about it."

Peter nodded to himself. He didn't like this tension. Why couldn't they just go back to loving each other like they used to? It didn't make sense to him why his father suddenly turned to alcohol instead of spending time with his family. The alcohol made him violent and cranky. Peter didn't like Berwald when he was drunk. Tino, knowing that, usually sent Peter up to his room for homework and dealt with Berwald until he calmed down. But Peter would see the bruises from it the next day.

Berwald looked over at his son. "Did you do well on your math test today?" he asked him, peering at him through his wire-rimmed glasses. Peter thought Berwald always looked angry, but he could never truly tell if he was or not.

"I will get the result tomorrow," Peter answered. "But I studied really hard for it, so I'm sure that I did well on it."

Berwald went back to staring at his plate once more. "That's good," he gruffly said. He went back to staring at his plate while everyone else ate quietly.

Peter was used to Berwald not talking at the table, but he wasn't used to Tino being so quiet. Something must've happened. Something they didn't want him to know about. It distressed Peter to the point that he was no longer hungry. He never had an appetite when eating with his parents. Who would when the setting was so tense?

Tino frowned when he looked over at Peter. "Are you not hungry again, hun?" he asked, looking at Peter's nearly-full plate.

"Sorry, Mama," Peter sighed. "I'm just not hungry right now. I had a big lunch at school," he lied. He didn't want to let his parents know it was because of them. He couldn't let Tino feel bad about it and didn't want to anger Berwald.

Tino expression softened once more. "Your school tends to have pretty big lunches lately," he commented.

"All of my friends give me the things they don't want to eat," Peter lied. "So I eat them if I can."

"I see," Tino mumbled, voice barely audible. He could tell that Peter was lying to him. And he knew why Peter had lost his appetite. It was the unsettling eating environment with Berwald. He himself had lost his appetite as well, mostly out of worry for his son. "I'm finished eating as well."

"Mama, you barely eat anymore," Peter commented. "Are you okay?"

Tino felt Berwald's gaze on him as he looked at Peter. "I'm just fine. I eat big lunches at work during the day. That's all."

"But you've lost a lot of weight in the past few months," Peter commented. "You're not the same Mama that I know." He frowned at his plate. "Neither of you are happy anymore, like we used to be."

Tino looked over at Berwald and they exchanged a nod. "Peter, I think it's time to tell you what's going on." He took a deep breath. "Your father and I are getting a divorce."

Peter's mind began to go haywire as he thought more and more about it. "You're what?" he finally asked as tears filled his eyes.

"We just can't live with each other anymore," Tino softly explained. "It's nothing you did. It's us."

The boy had expected any kind of news but that. He was supposed to be from the perfect family. Both Tino and Berwald always came to his field trips and class events, always smiling and laughing together and joking around. News like this was just unreal to Peter. How could his parents do this to him?

"What's going to happen to me?" Peter asked, blinking rapidly to hold back his tears. He tried to swallow the rapidly-growing lump in his throat, but it just wouldn't go down. He didn't want his parents to get divorced.

"You're going to come with me for awhile," Tino answered, trying to cushion the blow.

Peter shook his head. "But I want to live with you and Papa together."

Tino bit his lip. "I'm sorry, Peter, but that can't happen anymore. We'll be moving out on Saturday."

"But today is Tuesday!" Peter exclaimed, trying not to raise his voice. "This isn't fair. Why can't you two just love each other like you used to?!"

This time it was Berwald who spoke. "Because not everything stays the same as it once was."

Peter's tears began to stream down his face. "This isn't fair!" he sobbed. "It's just not fair! Why would you do this to me?!" He got up from his chair and fled the room.

Berwald glared at Tino from across the table. "Way to go, Tino. You upset the boy."

"It's best that he found out sooner than later," Tino softly said, looking down at his plate. He couldn't meet his husband's eye. "Wouldn't you agree? At least it won't be a surprise to him when we leave."

"Whatever, Tino," Berwald scoffed before getting up from the table as well and storming from the room.

Tino just sat and held his head in his hands. Peter was right. This wasn't fair at all.

.

Matthew walked into his home to be greeted by Irunya. "Good evening, dear," he said, embracing her. "Aren't you just the most wonderful sight for sore eyes if I've ever seen one." He kissed her cheek. "How was your day?"

"As decent as a florist's day can be," Irunya answered, running her fingers through Matthew's hair as she smiled. "What about you, Matthew?"

He sighed and sat on the couch. "Gilbert still hasn't come back to school," he said. "Alfred told me that he's still under investigation."

Irunya sat on his lap and snuggled into his chest. "You really care a lot about your students," she observed. "I know you shouldn't bring your work home with you, though. It's not good on you."

"I can't help but do it," Matthew sighed. "I spend a lot of time with the kids at school."

"And not nearly enough time with me," Irunya pouted.

Matthew wrapped his arms around her middle and kissed her cheek. "What do you say we spend some time together right now?" he suggested. "In the bedroom?"

Irunya sat up and smiled at him. "We haven't done that in so long," she giggled. She rose to her feet and grabbed Matthew's hands, pulling him to his feet as well. Her lips met his, feeling sparks of excitement. "Let's go, Matthew."

.

Emil sat in his room, reading. He was so done with his brother and his husband that night. They both got on his nerves as they questioned him about his grades. But it wasn't like it was his fault. None of the students at his school could focus with all of the murders going on, especially it only being kids from school.

He sighed and closed the book he was reading. It wasn't fair that he had to isolate to get away from his family, but at the same time he knew it was the only way to get Lukas and Mathias to leave him alone. He shut his eyes as his phone began to buzz.

Emil picked up his phone and answered it. "Hello?" he quietly asked, knowing he wasn't supposed to be on it at the moment. There was no response. "Hello?" he asked again. On the other end he heard some heavy breathing.

Getting freaked out, Emil checked the number. It was unavailable. Who the fuck was calling him? It was starting to really scare him as he heard the heavy breathing get more rapid. What was the person on the other end doing?!

He decided to greet the person one more time. "Hello?" he asked one last time, slightly louder this time. The heavy breathing continued, now with slight pauses in it. Freaked out, he hung up his phone and turned it on silent, throwing it to the end of his bed. Whatever was going on, it wasn't funny to him.

.

Alfred was playing video games as an instant message came to his computer. He looked at it closely. The username was "TheAWESOMEMe", and he knew immediately who it was. He smiled, pulling his laptop closer to him as he typed out a message.

TheAWESOMEMe: hey al. how are things going?

AlfredFosterJ: they're going okay. mr. k is pissed at his wife for what she did to you, gil.

TheAWESOMEMe: REALLY?! he took MY side?!

AlfredFosterJ: yeah, it's crazy. they don't even talk to each other at school right now.

TheAWESOMEMe: be sure to thank him for me! mr k was always a great guy in my book.

AlfredFosterJ: i will. when are you coming back gil? we're all worried about you.

TheAWESOMEMe: who knows? everyone still hates me right now. the police keep cracking down on me. i probably shouldn't even be messaging you right now but whatever.

AlfredFosterJ: i know you're innocent, gil. can't wait to see you at school again.

TheAWESOMEME: yeah. can't wait either. talk to you later.

AlfredFosterJ: yeah. later.

Alfred closed his laptop and sighed. He really did miss seeing Gilbert at school. It wasn't fair that this thing was happening to him. After all, he knew that Gilbert would never do anything to anyone, especially murder them.

.

Ivan sat on his bed that night, looking at the scrapbook he had made from Chun-Yan's murder. As he sat on the bed, he began to wonder if the murder of Eduard Von Bock was connected to Chun-Yan's. But what he didn't understand was why the murderer was targeting high schoolers. It didn't make any sense to him.

He pondered it for awhile longer as


	8. Chapter 8

Emil could feel someone watching him as he studied in the library. It was making him uncomfortable, but he knew he couldn't say anything to the person watching him. If he were to confront the person, that would mean he'd have to talk to them, and he just wasn't about that. These kinds of situations always seemed uncomfortable in movies, but he never thought he would have to experience it himself.

"Deep breaths, Emil," he muttered to himself, closing his eyes. He forced himself to look up just in time to see Leon Wang drop his gaze into a book. Emil's eyes narrowed. Leon had been nearly stalking him for days, going everywhere he went. It was almost as if Leon knew his schedule. And that was something Emil wasn't okay with.

Emil slowly got up and walked over to the library desk. "Mrs. Kirkland," he softly said, getting her attention.

Alice looked up from the computer she was checking in books on. "What is it, Emil?" she asked, voice just as low as his. She hated loud noises in her library.

"That weird Asian kid at table four is stalking me," Emil muttered to her. "Could you make him stop?"

The librarian's eyes flittered over to Leon. "Do you mean Leon?" she asked. "Emil, I am surprised at you. That's not a very nice thing to say about someone. And it also sounds a bit racist."

Emil's eyes widened. "Are you fucking kidding me?" he asked, appalled at her response.

"What has gotten into you?" Alice demanded as quietly as she could. "Speaking in that manner is extremely rude and disrespectful. You are not acting like yourself, Emil. Do I need to call your brother and tell him you're being intolerant of other students?"

"But I'm not!" Emil nearly shouted. He was starting to have trouble controlling the volume of his own voice.

"Emil Steilsson, please remove yourself from my library," Alice stated, going back to her computer. "You can try again in here tomorrow."

"Bitch," Emil muttered at her before going back to his table and gathering his things and leaving. It wasn't fair that he had to be kicked out of the library when he was the one who was honestly in there the most.

When he got back to his study hall class, he opened his textbook to find a folded piece of paper in the page he had been looking over. He unfolded it to find that it was typed out, so he couldn't identify who gave it to him. There was nothing better than to read it. It read:

Emil,

I've been watching you lately, and I can't contain it anymore. You are the only thing that's constantly on my mind. I keep trying to summon the courage to talk to you, but I just can't do it. Something stops me every time. Maybe it's your frosty demeanor. I'd need a blowtorch to get through that. Why don't you ever notice me? All I truly see is you.

Love, Your Admirer

Disgusted, Emil dropped the note into his backpack. He would throw it away at home so no one could pick it out of the trash and read it. It was embarrassing enough for even him to read it, let alone someone else. He would die if anyone else got their hands on that note.

The bell rang a few minutes later, signalling the end of class. Emil slowly got up and gathered his things to leave the room. To him, it sucked that the only thing on his mind was that stupid note and who sent it. He knew it couldn't have been Leon because he hadn't even gotten up from his chair while Emil was talking to Alice.

As Emil walked out into the hallway, he knew that he would have to find out who wrote that stupid note one way or another.

.

Elizaveta Héderváry walked with her best friend Monika Beilschmidt as they made their way around the park. They always power walked together every afternoon, unless if one of them were busy and let the other know ahead of time. It was the way they bonded, walking and gossiping about everything.

Monika's little brother Gilbert had recently become an interesting topic of conversation. Elizaveta had found it horrifying when he was taken down to the station to be questioned for murder. The worst part of it was that Monika and Gilbert's father, Ludwig, was the chief of police. From what Elizaveta had heard from Monika, Ludwig was horrified to see his son suspected of murder, and even more furious to find that it was his own father who had suspected his son. There was a lot of tension in that family at the moment.

The tension made Elizaveta slightly uncomfortable, though, but not for the reasons that it should. There was one secret that Elizaveta would never tell Monika. It was a secret that would ruin their friendship.

Three months earlier, Monika had informed Elizaveta that her grandmother had found out her grandfather had another woman, but she didn't know who it was. Monika had been devastated, always believing that her grandparents had a beautiful and pure marriage. She had wanted to hunt down and kill the woman who was ruining her grandparents' marriage, but Elizaveta had talked her out of that. Monika then settled for confronting the woman if she had ever found her.

Elizaveta's secret was that she, a twenty-three-year-old woman, was the other woman. Knowing how much it would kill Monika to know that it was her own best friend ruining her grandparents' marriage, Elizaveta was determined to never let Monika find out.

"How's Gil doing?" Elizaveta asked Monika, looking over at her blonde-haired friend.

"He's hanging in there," Monika gruffly answered. She pushed her bangs out of her clear, blue eyes. Her looks had favored her father, whereas her brother's had favored their mother. "I feel really bad for him. He's so social and can't even call people. It's been really rough on him. I hope they prove his innocence soon. I know he didn't kill that kid. Gilbert is too sweet to ever kill anyone."

Elizaveta nodded her agreement. "I'm so sorry that your family is going through this," she softly said. "It must be so hard. I wish there was a way to get your grandfather to drop the accusation."

"My grandfather is shit," Monika huffed out. "He's a cheater and a liar, so of course he would believe Gilbert is guilty of murder. You know, I bet that other woman told him to suspect Gilbert."

Elizaveta couldn't help but feel slightly offended by that, but she couldn't let it show. "Let's talk about something else. I can't have you sitting here and brooding over that other woman. We won't get anywhere with your mind like that." She dug deep in her mind and found a topic. "How are things with you and Feliciano?"

Monika looked shocked as she looked over at Elizaveta. "Is out relationship that obvious?" she asked.

"Everyone can see the way he looks at you, Monika," Elizaveta said with a bright smile. "You two are so cute when you're together. It's pretty obvious that there's something there."

The German girl blushed. "Well, we've been dating for about six months now…"

"Shut up!" Elizaveta excitedly said. "You've had a boyfriend for that long without telling me? Monika! That's so exciting!"

Monika couldn't keep the schoolgirl smile from her lips. "Feli's wonderful," she admitted. "He treats me right, and he's so kind. I honestly think he's the one, Liz. I've never felt this way about anyone in my entire life."

"Tell me more about him!" Elizaveta excitedly said. She wanted anything but to hear Monika talk about the "other woman". "Don't leave out a single detail! Is he a good kisser?"

"He's an amazing kisser!" Monika enthused. She leaned in closer to Elizaveta and whispered, "But he's even better in bed!"

Elizaveta felt goosebumps shoot through her skin. "Monika!"

Monika smirked to herself. "What? I'm an adult. I can sleep with whoever I choose to sleep with, right?"

Her friend giggled. "And you never told me!"

"Sorry that I don't kiss and tell," Monika teased.

"You do more than kiss, Miss Beilschmidt!" Elizaveta laughed. Though she was surprised that Monika was sleeping with a local deli owner, she was at least glad that the conversation moved on.

.

Feliciano Vargas hummed to himself as he swept the floor of the deli he owned. Sure, he had employees to do that, but since he was the owner, he felt it was his duty to clean his own deli when he had the time. It wasn't like he minded this kind of work anyway. He expected the deli to look nice, so it's what he figured he had to do.

He looked up at the dinging of the bell above the door. A smile came to his face when he saw that beautiful, pale woman with short, blonde hair and those blue eyes that he absolutely adored. His heart began to beat faster as she walked over.

"Salve, bella," he greeted, grinning at her. He winked a bronze-colored eye at her, flipping his auburn bangs out of his face.

Monika's cheeks turned a bright pink. "Afternoon, Feli," she answered. She couldn't help but smile in the presence of who she saw as the most perfect man in the world. Her heart fluttered in her chest as she walked over to him. "How are you today? Do you need any help?"

"And make a beauty like you work? Never," Feliciano answered, smiling brightly. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer, kissing her lips softly.

She smiled into the kiss, resting her hands on his shoulders. "Oh, Feli, you're too kind," she said when she pulled away. "You are a wonderful man." Her smile could barely fit on her face, yet she always wondered why he was the only person who could make her smile.

"Not nearly as wonderful of a person as you, though," Feliciano told her. He leaned on his broom, gazing at her. "Do you have any plans for tonight?"

"Not that I can think of," Monika answered. "Why? Did you have something in mind, Feli?"

"I was thinking we could make tonight a date night," Feliciano answered. "That is, if you want to, of course."

"I would love to," Monika responded, smiling. "You always know just what to do. You're so good to me, Feliciano!"

"Anything for my angelo," Feliciano responded, leaning in and kissing her once more.

"Ugh, get a room," Lovino Vargas groaned from behind the counter. He was Feliciano's twin brother, but he was a lonely bachelor due to being more unfriendly than not. He groaned loudly and pushed his dark bangs out of his eyes. "Feli, you're slacking." It was true that Lovino owned half of the deli, but it was also true that Feliciano did most of the work in it.

"Right, I'm still on the clock," Feliciano stated, pulling away from Monika. He smiled at his girlfriend. "I get off at eight tonight. Would you like to meet at our usual restaurant?"

"It's a date," Monika told him, still blushing. She began to walk toward the door. "Have fun at work, Feli! Bye, Lovino!"

"Whatever," Lovino grumbled behind the counter. He couldn't help but be jealous of his brother, who was able to get any girl he wanted with the snap of his fingers. There was only one girl that he wanted, and that was Charlotte Schmit, the Belgian girl down the street. Too bad she never even looked his way.

Feliciano moved behind the counter and began sweeping there as well. "Don't worry, Lovi," he simply said. "Someday you'll find someone to make you happy as well."

"Shut up," Lovino grumbled, going back into the kitchen area.

.

"Mummy, why are you and Daddy fighting?" six-year-old Allistor Kirkland asked his mother one night after another dinner in complete silence. The young redheaded boy didn't like the stiff silence that enveloped them as they ate as a family. He knew his brothers were too young to know that it meant something bad. Seamus was only three and Dylan was still in diapers.

"We're not fighting," Alice told her oldest son, patting his head. "What on earth would ever make you think that?"

"It's always quiet when we eat," Allistor softly began. "And I noticed that you and Daddy don't really talk to each other anymore."

Alice frowned and looked off toward Arthur's study. "I'll go talk to him right now, Allistor. How about you go play with your brother?"

Allistor obediently nodded. He didn't care if he had to play with Seamus, all he wanted was for his parents to get along again.

.

Arthur glanced up from his assignments he was grading as Alice walked into his study. His gaze fell back to the papers. He didn't know what Alice was doing in his study while he was clearly working. If she had come to harass him, then she had terrible timing.

After a few moments of silence passed by, Arthur looked back up at her. "What is it?" he asked, annoyed.

"Our son just asked me why we're fighting," she stated, crossing her arms over her chest. She glared at him through her wire-rimmed glasses. "What would you like me to tell him? He's smarter than you think, Arthur. He has picked up that there's tension between us."

"Everyone has picked up on that," Arthur snarled at her. "So why are you surprised that Allistor has? Why can't you just admit that you're wrong?"

Alice's glare hardened. "What is wrong with you? Is that all you want me to say? That I was wrong?"

"This is a student's future we are talking about!" Arthur exclaimed. "And you slandered his name and turned his own grandfather against him! How the actual fuck do you sleep at night, Alice?!"

Her eyes filled with tears. "It wasn't my doing!" she tearfully shouted at her husband. "All I did was report the bullying that I saw, Arthur, like we're supposed to! What would you have done?!" She closed the door to the study and leaned heavily against it. "Why am I suddenly the villain for doing my bloody job?!" She buried her face in her hands as she began sobbing. "It's not fair, Arthur!"

Arthur could feel his heart breaking for her. She really was just doing her job. Why had he been so petty about everything? He honestly felt guilty seeing his wife crying like that. He felt it wasn't fair to her if her story was true. How could he have been so uncaring?

Before he knew what was going on, he went over to her and embraced her. "I'm sorry," he softly told her. "I truly am, Alice. I've been so hateful to you, and you didn't deserve it."

Alice looked up at him, tears streaming down her face. "But do you really mean it, Arthur?" she asked. "Or will things be the same again at work? Will there be more silent dinners where Allistor will be wondering why we can't just love each other?"

Arthur shook his head. "No," he told her. "Allistor won't have to wonder that anymore. I really, truly mean it when I say that I'm sorry, Alice. I will clean up my act, I promise."

She blinked her eyes at him for a moment before placing her hands on his shoulders and kissing him softly. "I love you, Arthur," she whispered against his lips.

"I love you too, Alice," Arthur told her, pressing his forehead against hers. "I'm sorry for how terrible I've been to you this past week and a half."

"I'm sorry, too," Alice told him. She cupped his face in her hands. "Let's not fight anymore, love. In fact, how about we make up later tonight?"

"Are you saying what I think you're saying?" Arthur asked her.

"You'll just have to find out after the boys go to bed," Alice answered with a wink.

Arthur tucked her hair behind her ear and kissed her. "Can't wait, dear." He smiled at her. "I have some papers I still need to grade, though. I look forward to what you have planned for tonight." He winked at her before returning to his desk.

Alice smiled to herself as she left the study. Tears worked every time.


	9. Chapter 9

Emil walked in the door of the apartment he lived in with his brother. He groaned when he saw that Mathias was sitting on the couch and looking at him. Of all the people he didn't want to talk to, Mathias was always at the top of the list. He was always trying to get into Emil's business, and the teenage boy didn't like that.

"You know your school called Lukas today, right?" Mathias asked, raising an eyebrow at Emil. "He's not very happy with you."

"So?" Emil asked. "Neither of you are ever happy with me, so I don't see what the problem is."

Mathias pointed a warning finger at him. "You need to start watching that mouth of yours. That's the exact reason why you got into trouble today."

"You have no idea what I'm going through right now," Emil growled at him. "So lay off!"

The Danish man rose to his feet. "Don't talk to me that way, Emil. You need to watch your mouth when you're speaking to authority."

"Authority?" Emil scoffed. "Are you fucking kidding me? All you do is tell me what to do. You don't care about me! You only care about my brother because he was the only man who could put up with you! Admit it!"

Mathias took a step toward Emil. "Now why would you say something like that?"

"You may not realize this, but I hear the things you've said to him when you've been drinking," Emil snarled at him. "You don't deserve someone like Lukas!"

"But do you know of the things he says to me?" Mathias asked. "Do you know of the things he does to me first?"

"I'm not continuing this conversation," Emil said. "I have homework to do, so don't bother me."

"We're not done here," Mathias told him.

"Well I am," Emil said, heading down the hallway to his room. "You suck, Mathias." He slammed the door to his bedroom after himself.

His phone began to ring and he picked it up without answering it. "Hello?" he groaned.

Once again, he heard that heavy breathing. He checked the caller ID, and it came up as unknown. "Seriously, this needs to stop. This is the third time this week. I have suspicions of what you're doing on the other end, and that's just nasty. Masturbating to the sound of my voice? What the hell is wrong with you?"

The breaths became heavy pants as Emil could hear the other noises from what the person on the other end was doing.

"If I ever find out who you are, you're fucking dead," he growled into the phone before hanging up.

Emil threw the phone to the end of his bed. He then got out his homework and began working on it, not having time to think about who his disgusting caller was. He'd find him eventually.

.

Lukas walked into the apartment about an hour later. He glanced over at Mathias, who was on the couch. "Good evening," he greeted, taking off his shoes. His footsteps barely made any noise as he walked over to Mathias and sat on his lap.

"Evening," Mathias answered before stealing a kiss from his husband. "How was your day?"

Lukas groaned. "Don't remind me, Mat." He cuddled into Mathias and took a deep breath, feeling comfort from being around his husband. "Is Emil home?"

"Yeah," Mathias sighed. "Luke, why did we have to take him in? The kid obviously hates us."

"Emil hates everyone," Lukas sighed. "But I understand him better than our mom does. That's for sure." He took a deep breath and let it out. "Maybe I should go talk to him and see what happened at school today."

"I don't know," Mathias sighed. "He's not in the best of moods."

"You know that's because of his illness," Lukas answered. "He can't help his moods. Yes, he says hurtful and hateful things, but I know he doesn't mean them. Besides, I should go and see if he took his meds." He made a move to get up, but Mathias grabbed him by the waist, holding him in his lap. "Mathias, let go."

"I haven't seen you all day," Mathias complained.

"And I haven't seen my brother in three days," Lukas countered. He began to pry at Mathias's hands. "If it's sex you want, you can get it later."

"Promise?" Mathias asked.

Lukas groaned. "Yes, now let go of me." He untangled himself from Mathias's embrace and stood up, ignoring the slap on the ass he received from Mathias. His feet guided him down the hallway to Emil's room. He knocked on the door. "Emil?"

"Go away," Emil groaned through the door.

"Not until we talk," Lukas said. "Now, are you going to let me in or not?"

There was a long, drawn-out "Fuck!" from the other side of the door, but Emil eventually opened it. "What do you want? I'm doing homework."

Lukas pushed his way into his younger brother's room. "We need to talk about some things. First, why did I get a call from Mrs. Kirkland?"

"Okay, she blew that completely out of proportion," Emil groaned, rolling his eyes. He flopped face-down onto his bed. "I didn't even do anything wrong. All I did was tell her I was being watched by that stupid Asian kid at my school."

"But how did you phrase it?" Lukas asked, sitting gingerly on the bed next to his brother. "Were you upset when you talked to her?"

"Why does that matter?" Emil huffed, raising his head to glare at his brother.

"You may be able to fool Mathias, but you can't fool me," Lukas stated. "I may not be here when you leave for school, but I come back for my lunch break every day. And do you know what I do when I come back? I check to see if you took your medicine that morning." He gave Emil a stern look. "You didn't take it today."

"So?" Emil grumbled before putting his face back into the pillow.

"We had an agreement when Mathias and I agreed to take you in," the older brother began. "If you took your medicine every day, then you could stay here with us instead of going to Reykjavik. You're not holding up your end of the bargain, Em."

"Don't call me that," Emil irritably growled, lifting his head. "And I forgot this morning, okay?"

"You've been pretty forgetful lately," he said. "Do I need to call Mom?"

Emil's eyes widened. "Don't you dare, Lukas!" He grasped his brother's arm in desperation and clutched it tightly. "I will never forgive you if you do, I swear to fucking God!"

"Then start taking your medicine like you're supposed to," Lukas stated. "I can't be constantly worrying about you while I'm at work or whenever you're not in the house. There are so many things I wish I could do for you that I just can't do right now, and it makes me feel like shit." He sighed and freed his arm from Emil's grasp. "There's one more thing I need to tell you."

"What is it?" Emil asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Mathias will be taking you to therapy tomorrow. I have a meeting at work that I need to attend." Lukas bit his lip, knowing what Emil's reaction would be.

"What?!" Emil nearly shouted. "Why?! I don't want to go with him! Why can't we just reschedule?!"

"Because no matter how badly you want it to, the world does not revolve around you," Lukas stiffly stated. "You need to think of others as well." He patted his brother's head. "It won't be so bad, and I swear this will be the only time it happens."

"It better be," Emil huffed, glaring at the wall before him. "And I swear, if Mathias is a douche to me, I can't guarantee I'll be very pleasant back."

"That's fair," Lukas sighed. "Just try to get along. He really does care about you."

"Yeah, and pigs fly," Emil groaned. "Can you leave now? I just want to get my homework done."

"Roger that," Lukas said. He stood up and walked to the door. "I mean it, Emil. Mathias and I both care about you very much."

"Just get out."

.

Peter Oxenstierna sat in his room that Friday night. He was surrounded by piles of boxes everywhere. He just couldn't believe that his parents were getting divorced. It wasn't fair. Why couldn't his family just stay together forever and be happy? Why did he have to get dragged down with it?

He rested his head against the wall and sighed out. Sure, living with Tino was going to take getting used to, but it would never feel the same ever again without Berwald. His eyes began to water as he thought of Berwald in this house all by himself. He didn't want to leave his father behind. It wasn't fair! Why was life so stupid and unfair? It didn't make any sense!

Tino and Berwald were yelling in their bedroom, so Peter took that opportunity to slip out of the house and go for a walk to clear his head. He didn't care how late it was, and he was certain his parents wouldn't even notice that he was gone. It was just a regular thing he did when things got bad.

The wind outside was pretty strong, so he tucked his hands in his pockets and kept his head down. If it got any more windy, he wouldn't even bother going outside. But this weather was bearable. At least it could get his mind off of his feuding parents.

.

Aldrich Beilschmidt sighed in his study at home. His wife, Julia, was out for the weekend on business, and he needed to sort out the bills of the school. The only problem was that some of the funds just weren't adding up. He groaned in frustration and put his hand to his forehead. What was going on?

"Is something wrong?" Elizaveta asked, stepping over to him. She began to massage his shoulders while speaking in a soothing voice. "Is work stressing you out?"

"More than you know," Aldrich sighed. "I'm trying to add up the amount of money that each academic club receives, but it's just not adding up. I always get lost on the debate team."

Elizaveta thought for a moment. "Is that so? Where are you getting lost?"

"The debate team gets a certain amount of funding per semester, but somehow the money doesn't add up to the cost of the equipment they're getting. It's almost as if someone were using it for other things."

She gasped. "Who would do something like that?"

Aldrich sighed once more. "I have no idea. But I need to get to the bottom of this and stop if from happening."

"Just relax for a little bit," Elizaveta coaxed, moving around the chair to sit on his lap. She perched herself on his legs and snuggled into his chest. "It'll be okay." Her hand caressed his face soothingly as she placed a lingering kiss on his cheek. "We'll worry about that later. For now, let's focus on the present."

He rested his hands on her waist. "You're an amazing woman, Elizaveta," he told her before kissing her lips softly.

"You may have mentioned that once or twice," she teasingly giggled before kissing him back, running her fingers through his long, white hair. "Now, just focus on me," she softly said before deepening the kiss.

.

Ivan sat in his room, inspecting the police report from Chun-Yan's death. It was the same routine every night. He sighed as he picked apart every sentence of the articles, looking for some sort of clue as to why it had to be her.

He hadn't been to her house since the night she died. The police had closed it off for awhile, but now it was for sale on the market. As he thought more about it, he was dying to go in there and see if there were any traces of the murderer.

He slipped his jacket on and headed out into the night. It wasn't that far of a walk to her house. He was at her back door in minutes, pulling the key she had given him three years ago out of his pocket.

Ivan quietly slipped into the house, shutting the door behind him. He used his phone for a flashlight as he made his way to the kitchen.

There were still bloodstains all over the floor, flooding into the carpet of the living room. Ivan cringed at the sight. There was no way her death wasn't painful.

He then made his way up the stairs to her room and found it in the same order it had always been in. Were the police just planning on selling her things with the house? That didn't seem very fair, considering that she didn't get to make that choice herself.

With nothing left to do for the rest of the night, Ivan went to work on looking through her things, trying to find some scrap of evidence that could lead to the murderer. If he had any luck, he would keep it to himself and track down the murderer alone. It was better than getting the police involved.

And if he were to ever find the person who killed Chun-Yan, he would make them pay.


	10. Chapter 10

"Ivan, you look tired," Alfred observed the next day at school. Ever since Chun-Yan had passed, Alfred had made an effort to talk to Ivan at least once every day.

"Yeah?" Ivan yawned. "I was up late doing homework last night. You're Mr. Kirkland's pet, right? Can't you tell him to ease up on the homework?"

"I was just on my way to go talk to him," Alfred stated. "I can talk to him about it if you'd like."

"No need," Ivan half-heartedly laughed. "I was only joking." He looked at Alfred. "You go to Mr. Kirkland's room a lot, Alfred. Is he tutoring you?"

Alfred leaned in toward Ivan. "Don't tell anyone this, but yeah. My Literature grade is so low right now that I need to bring it up or I can't play football anymore. Doesn't that suck?" He sighed. "Anyway, I'm going to be late for my lunch tutoring. I'll see you later, Ivan!" With a quick salute and a wave, Alfred bounded down the hall for the literature classroom.

"It's about time you got here," Arthur greeted when Alfred walked in.

"Ivan would've followed me here if I hadn't stalled and made up something on the spot," Alfred sighed. "Now, do you want me here or not?" He looked around the room, glad that his school was one with no security cameras installed. "The blind spot from the door is that corner," he said, gesturing toward a desk in a far corner on the same wall as the door.

"I know that, you idiot," Arthur scoffed, leading the way to it. "Let's go."

As soon as Alfred sat down, it began. Arthur leaned over his shoulder and Alfred caught his lips with his own. The two were making out in no time. To each of them, it was like a game that they had to be good at, a game where there would be huge penalties if they were caught. And to think, it all started with a brush between their hands.

Arthur had never experienced an attraction to a male before, especially not one as young as Alfred, yet the day Alfred kissed him for the first time he knew that he wanted-no, needed-more. It was like a hungry desire deep inside of him that was awakened by the crashing of their lips against each other. To Arthur, it was more satisfying than kissing Alice. It was even to the point that when he was making love to his wife, he would sometimes imagine Alfred instead.

Alfred, on the other hand, had never experienced attraction to a woman before. He didn't know what it was like to love a woman and then suddenly be interested in men. All his life, he had wanted to be with a man, yet Arthur was the only one who had really grabbed his attention. And with Alfred's personality, if it was something, or someone, he couldn't have, he wanted it all the more. And that included Arthur as well, especially Arthur.

The two began to get more heated as the kisses became more sloppy. Alfred and Arthur were both becoming painfully hard and aroused, yet neither of them could just whip it out and jerk it off right then and there. It wasn't as if they had actually touched each other yet either. The most they had done is kiss each other, even though Alfred had wanted to move on further in their relationship together. Arthur had been hesitant on that, though, wanting to be sure he loved Alfred first.

Alfred's hand reached up and cupped Arthur's crotch, and for the first time, Arthur didn't slap his hand away. Instead, Arthur moaned out softly, pushing his hips into Alfred's hand, grinding his crotch against Alfred's hand. That was all Alfred needed to continue with what he wanted.

His fingers massaged Arthur's length through the fabric of his pants. He smiled at every one of Arthur's low moans, trying to encourage more, loving the sound of them.

"Mr. K, there's too much fabric for you to have a good time with me," Alfred simply stated.

"Let me lock my door," Arthur told him. "And I'll turn off my light so no one thinks we're in here." He awkwardly locked the door and shut off the light to make it seem like no one was in there. He returned to Alfred and straddled his leg. "Now, how about you finish me off?"

"With pleasure," Alfred answered before unzipping his teacher's trousers and freeing his length. "Let's do this, Mr. K."

"Call me Arthur," the teacher sighed out, closing his eyes.

"You got it, Arthur," Alfred said before kissing him passionately.

.

Emil sat awkwardly in the car next to Mathias. If he had a choice, he would've just skipped therapy, but he knew that Lukas wouldn't like that and would threaten to send him to live with their mom in Iceland again. It seemed as if Lukas were threatening that a lot lately. He hated that his brother would use such a horrible threat against him, but he understood why. Being diagnosed Bipolar was no joke.

"So what are you going to talk about today?" Mathias asked him, stealing a quick glance at his younger brother-in-law before looking back to the road. "You know, I hear your phone go off at night sometimes and then I hear your muffled voice all upset. Are you going to talk about that?"

"You don't even know what those phone calls are about," Emil grumbled, feeling as if he wanted to fold in on himself. Why, of all things, did Mathias have to mention those weird masturbation phone calls? He knew that if he told Mathias what was really going on when that person called, his phone could be taken away. Not that he cared too much, but that phone was rightfully his.

"Then enlighten me," Mathias said. "You don't seem to enjoy them very much. Should we change your number?"

"Don't be stupid," Emil sighed. He frowned, wondering why he hadn't thought of that. Surely if his number was changed, then those phone calls would stop, right? "The person will just find out my number again and keep calling me."

"What do they say to you?" Mathias asked, concerned.

"Like it's any of your business," the younger one snarled at him. He didn't understand why he was being so hateful when Mathias was only trying to care, but he couldn't react in any other way. "Look, it's stressing me out."

"Would you like us to get your number changed?" Mathias repeated.

Emil was quiet for a moment. "It won't change anything," he finally said. "They'll just keep calling."

Mathias cast him a worried glance but kept his mouth shut. If anything, he would need to talk to Lukas about all of this later. He made a mental note to. Though Emil didn't seem to give a damn about him, he cared deeply for that boy and wanted only the best for him. Even if it meant getting the big brother involved, no matter how much Emil hated it.

.

Peter sighed as he looked around his new bedroom in his apartment with Tino. It was small, but cozy. He didn't like it. Berwald wasn't there, so it was uncomfortable.

"Mama," he sighed, walking into Tino's room. He crawled into Tino's bed with him. "How long until it stops?"

"How long until what stops?" Tino asked, looking over at his son. He marked his spot in his book and placed it on the nightstand. His brow furrowed in worry when he saw his young son's face. "Peter, what's wrong?"

"How long until it stops hurting?" Peter asked, lip quivering.

"What's hurting?" Tino asked, eyes widening. His full attention was now focused on his son. "Did someone hurt you?"

"Yes," Peter softly answered.

Tino held his son close. "Oh, my God! Who hurt you?!" he asked, panicking.

Peter pushed Tino away from him. "You!" he nearly shouted. "It hurts, Mama! Why can't you and Papa just love each other?! Can you imagine the pain that I'm in?! I just lost Papa and you expect me to be comfortable to be in a home with just you?! It's not the same! I want my Papa! I want you two to just go back to loving each other!"

"Peter…" Tino's eyes filled with tears. "Please don't say that to me. You know what it was like near the end for me."

"Why couldn't you have just worked things out?!" Peter demanded. "It's not fair! I wish you had never adopted me! I wish I had never joined this family! I hate you, Mama! I hate you and Papa! This sucks! It just sucks! I don't want to be part of this family anymore!" He got up and ran to his room.

"Peter, open the door!" Tino said, knocking on his son's door. "Peter, please! Let's talk about this!" He tried the knob and found that the door was locked. "Please don't shut me out! Don't do this, Peter!"

The young boy was already looking for his coat and shoes. He was going to sneak out his window and go for a walk to cool down. It wasn't like he cared how late it was. He needed to clear his head. He needed the wind whipping at his face at calm him down.

.

Ivan decided to go to bed early that night, but yet another strange dream occurred. In this dream, he woke up and got the boxcutter out of the drawer in the kitchen again but also carried an electrical cord with him in the pocket of his hoodie.

He wandered down the street, taking random twists and turns here and there before he came across a small boy in his pajamas. What was a kid like that doing walking around the streets that late at night? Dream or not, it was still odd to Ivan.

Ivan quickened his pace and caught up with the little boy. "What are you doing out here?" he asked him. "Don't you know how late it is? Someone could kidnap you."

"Someone like you?" the little boy asked, voice sarcastic and bitter. "Please do. I don't want to go back home."

"What would you rather do?" Ivan asked.

"Die," the child answered. He stopped walking and looked miserably at his feet. "I don't have a family that loves me anymore. They can't even love each other." His gaze looked back up at Ivan. "Hey, mister, could you kill me?"

The older boy was taken aback. "You want me to kill you?" he quietly asked.

"I've been thinking about it for a long time, almost a week," the boy answered with a nod. "Please. Take me into that alley over there and kill me."

"You're just a kid," Ivan said. "I can't do that."

"Yes you can," the boy insisted. "There are murders going around, who will really care if there is one more?" He noticed the wire poking out of Ivan's pocket and grabbed it before wrapping it around his neck. "See? I'll even do it for you?"

"Hey, don't do that," Ivan said, but the kid ran into the alleyway, causing Ivan to chase him. "Stop it, kid. You don't know what you're doing."

The child tightened the cord around his neck. "Everything is going black," he observed. His eyes suddenly filled with panic. "Hey, I can't get it to untighten!" He began to panic, but he couldn't breathe to do it or else his head would begin to ache. "Help me!"

"No," Ivan simply stated. "You wanted to die. And now you will."

"I didn't mean it," the boy said, eyes filling with tears. "I want my mom! I want my dad!"

"Well you'll never see them again," Ivan casually answered.

"It hurts!" the boy whined.

Ivan, annoyed with the complaining, took the boxcutter and stabbed it through the boy's temple, instantly killing the child. "Better now?" he asked the motionless child next to him. He quickly untangled the cord from the boy's neck and put it back in his pocket before rolling up the child's pants leg and carving into his right shin: "I AM ASLEEP".

He then went down to the river to wash off the cord of the boy's germs and wash off the boxcutter of his blood. Someone would find the boy soon, so he had better get home.

.

Ivan woke up in a cold sweat. What the actual hell? He frowned and looked around. The electrical cord was in its usual spot, so he didn't even bother to check the drawer for the boxcutter. He really needed to stop having weird dreams like that if he wanted to make sure he found Chun-Yan's killer. That was for sure. This wasn't fair.

.

Tino walked around the downtown area with Berwald, hands tucked deep into his pockets. His breath was coming out in puffs of smoke as he fidgeted, popping his knuckles with his fingers. He felt sick with worry. "Where is he?" he worriedly asked. "We've looked everywhere, Berwald!"

"We haven't checked all of the alleys," Berwald answered.

The shorter man felt his stomach drop of his husband's words. "Please don't say something like that," he pleaded. "This is our son we're talking about, Ber! I'm terrified!" He began to shake as he peeked into an alley. "He's not there…"

"We'll look into the next one," Berwald simply said. "Are you sure he's not at your apartment somewhere?"

"I told you a billion times that I searched the whole place!" Tino snarled at him. "Sometimes I just want to punch you, you know that?" He peeked into an alley and saw a small form surrounded by liquid. His stomach immediately dropped. "Berwald…"

"What is it?" he asked, looking as well. His eyes locked onto the form and he ran over. He recognized his son's body anywhere. "Tino, stay over there!"

"Why?" Tino asked, beginning to wander over.

"For fuck's sake, Tino!" Berwald nearly shouted. "I said to stay over there! Call the police!"

Tino whipped out his phone, heart racing. "Why?" he asked, panicked. "What's going on?"

"He's dead," Berwald softly said. "Our little boy is dead…."

.

"Who would kill a little boy?" Tino kept asking, wrapping himself tighter and tighter in the panic blanket the ambulance driver gave him. "It just doesn't make sense to me. Why would someone kill my little boy?" Tears had been gushing from his eyes for the past hour, and they didn't look as if they would be stopping any time soon. "This isn't fair! I'll kill the person who killed my son! I'll kill them!"

"Tino, please," Berwald softly stated. "You're causing a scene."

"I'll cause a fucking scene if I want!" Tino screamed at him. "My baby is dead!" He leaned heavily against Berwald and sobbed. "Why don't you care?!"

"I do," Berwald answered.

"Then why aren't you broken like I am?" Tino asked. "Why aren't you falling apart?"

"Because I need to stay strong for you," Berwald simply said. "One of us has to be strong, and it was always you while I lost my cool. This time, I'm the one who has to be."

"Come off the bullshit, Berwald," Tino snarled at him. "Our son is dead! He's never coming back! We'll never hear him laugh again! We'll never watch him play! He'll never come running to us for help ever again!" His voice became more and more choked with each word until it finally cut off and he fell over into Berwald's lap. "I want my little boy back! It's not fair!"

Berwald ran his fingers through Tino's hair like he used to whenever his spouse needed comforting. He didn't say anything, though. There were no words to say at a time like this. What was he supposed to say anyway? "I'm sorry that our son died, but you really need to get over yourself"? That would never do. Tino needed this time to grieve.

"Stay with me for awhile," Berwald said. "I won't drink. I just don't want to be alone."

"Neither do I," Tino whimpered. He then blinked his eyes as if he had suddenly remembered something. "He was your son, too, Berwald. You're in as much pain as I am." He sat up and kissed Berwald's cheek. "I will stay with you to keep you from being lonely."

"Thank you," Berwald softly said. And that was when it happened. A single tear, the first of many, finally found its way down his cheek.


	11. Chapter 11

Ivan could hear his mother sobbing in the living room when he woke up. He wondered what that was all about, and went to check on her. His gut twisted in his stomach as he thought of the dream he had where he had killed that kid. He tried not to think about it.

Anya Braginky was found watching the news, tears streaming down her face. She looked over to see her son and grabbed him, holding him tightly. "Oh, Ivan! It's just the worst!"

"What happened?" Ivan asked, confused. His mother never hugged him like this. It was almost making him uncomfortable. What had happened to make her act this way? "Is everything okay, Mom? I don't understand why you are holding me so tightly. I can't breathe."

"Ivan, it's awful!" she cried out. "Someone murdered the Oxenstierna boy last night! It's all over the news!"

"Oxenstierna?" Ivan asked. Where had he heard that name before? He knew it was an important name in his town. "You mean the son of the court judge?"

Anya sadly nodded. "They found him dead in an alleyway. The world is such a cruel place, Ivan. I hate the man who did it."

"How old was he?" Ivan asked.

"He couldn't have been older than twelve," Anya sobbed. "Can you believe someone would murder a child like that? Who would even want to kill a child? I don't understand!"

"Mom, I'm sorry that it happened," Ivan told her.

"Oh, Ivan, I"m so glad that it wasn't you!" she cried out, clinging to him. "I'm so glad you're still safe! Please don't go out at night, even when I'm working my night shift! Do you understand me? Don't you dare go out while that murderer is still on the loose! I don't want my little boy to be next!"

"I understand," Ivan solemnly said. He decided that it was best not to mention the horrifying nightmares he had been having.

.

Monica walked into the deli with a solemn expression on her face. The usually cheery atmosphere of the deli was clouded over with sadness. Then again, the whole town seemed to be in a slump after the news that morning. What she didn't understand was why the murderer was targeting kids. It didn't make any sense.

That night, she had ran to her brother's room as soon as there were police sirens outside. She knew that there had been another victim, and she needed to check and see if Gilbert was in his room. She had found him looking solemnly out the window. The only words he uttered when looking over at her were, "At least my name will now be cleared."

Monica felt a tight pull in her chest. The Oxenstierna family had lived next door to them for ages. She had watched Peter grow up, but she never expected that she'd never see him grow up into an adult. All she wanted to know was who would kill an innocent child. What kind of disgusting person would do something like that?

Feliciano stepped around the counter to hug her, and she fell apart in his arms. "There there, bella," he softly said. "We're all hurting over this."

"Only one good thing can come of this," Monica softly whispered to him. "It wasn't Gilbert. His name will be cleared." She clung to her boyfriend tightly. "But why did it have to be such a small child this time? What the actual fuck is going on in this town?"

Her boyfriend frowned. "The world works in the strangest was sometimes, Monica," he answered. "But at least there was one blessing. Gilbert is innocent. I always knew he was."

"Yes," she softly said. "But at what a cost." Her eyes brimmed over with tears once more. "Peter is gone! I used to babysit him, you know. When he was just a baby. Gilbert and I would go over to their house and I would babysit them." She scrubbed at her eyes with the back of her hand. "It's not fair, Feli!"

"It's really not," he responded, holding her tighter. "I'm sorry that this had to happen to such an innocent child."

"Feli!" Lovino barked from behind the counter. "What are you doing?! You are supposed to be working!" The murderous look Monica gave him caused him to stop. "Take your time," he muttered, walking into the back. If there was one thing he hated dealing with, it was an angry Monica.

"Your brother is such an ass," Monica sighed. She rested her head on Feliciano's shoulder. "Why is he always so angry?"

"I think he was born angry," Feliciano answered. "There is never a moment when he's actually in a good mood. I've noticed that."

Monica couldn't help but smile a little. "So you are perceptive then?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Feliciano laughed. "Am I not always?"

"A lot of things go over your head, babe," Monica told him, chuckling to herself.

"Like what?" Feliciano laughed. He snuggled her close. "You know," he began, changing the subject, you're most lovely when you smile."

"Oh, Feli," Monica sighed, smiling. She kissed his cheek. "You always know just how to cheer me up. I thank you for that. You keep me from being lost." Her heart pounded in her chest when he kissed her forehead. She always loved when he did that. It made her feel safe. "I love you, Feliciano."

"I love you too, Monica," he told her, smiling.

.

Alice Kirkland sat on the living room sofa in her home. She had her knitting needles in her lap, but couldn't bring herself to knit. There was too much on her mind. For instance, why did her husband always seem so distracted. It was almost as if he didn't realize that they were even married those days.

She sighed as she looked down at the emerald green scarf she had been knitting for him. It was for their wedding anniversary coming up that Friday. It would be their eighth year of marriage, but she began to wonder if that even meant anything to him anymore. He was always too distracted by work to really talk to her those days.

Her attention was caught by her youngest son, Dylan, as he crawled into the room. A bright smile crossed her face. He looked so much like Arthur. She scooped him into her lap as he crawled over. "Hello, love," she softly greeted to him.

Dylan clapped his hands in her lap, giggling. He was nearly the carbon copy of Arthur, although his hair was a slightly darker shade. His mother hoped he would grow up to look just like his father, knowing that the other two wouldn't.

Seamus wandered into the room as well. "Mama, why is Daddy always locked in his study?" he asked.

Alice sighed. "Daddy is just always busy with work," she answered, moving her knitting needles from her lap so Dylan couldn't get them. "He is always helping his students, so he doesn't get his work done at the school."

Though she considered her husband a dedicated teacher, she just wished he would focus more on grading papers than talking with his students. Then again, with all of the murders going on, who else did the students really have to talk to? Matthew was only one person. At least Arthur was a teacher his students trusted. That was always helpful, even though he wasn't like that at home those days.

"Well I wish Daddy would play with me like he used to," Seamus sighed. "It's not fair that he never has time for me anymore."

"Have you told him this?" Alice asked, peering over her glasses at her young son. "If you told Daddy you missed him, maybe that would change things."

"Could you tell him for me?" Seamus asked. "Daddy is scary when I bother him."

Alice frowned. She didn't like hearing her children describe their father as scary. "I will go and tell him right now," she said, putting Dylan in his playpen. "He needs to know this." She hurried down the hall to Arthur's study and entered without knocking. "Arthur, we need to talk."

Arthur jumped in his chair. "Haven't you heard of knocking, Alice?" he asked, swiveling the chair to face her. "What is it?"

"Your children are scared of you, you know," she said, closing the door and crossing her arms. "Your sons are afraid of bothering you. They miss you a lot, Arthur. You're always so busy."

"I'm sorry that I'm doing the job I'm paid to do," Arthur bitterly answered. "I wish I had the time to spend with the boys, I really do, but I'm busy at all times, Alice. What do you expect me to do? Spend every minute at home with the boys, or lose my job?"

"I don't expect you to spend every minute with us," she snapped. "But I do expect you to learn to balance your work and social lives." Her gaze softened a bit. "Do you even realize that our anniversary is coming up?"

"It's on Friday," Arthur told her. "How could I ever forget that day, almost eight years ago, when I married the woman of my dreams?"

Alice couldn't stop her smile from playing on her lips. "Oh, Arthur!" she squealed. "You do remember!" She hurried over to him and sat on his lap before kissing him. "I thought you would have forgotten!"

"Now why would you ever think a silly thing like that?" Arthur asked. "I may be busy with work, but I'll never be too busy to remember such an important occasion." He placed his hands on her hips and grinned. "Now, I have about twenty more papers to grade and then I'll be out, okay?"

Alice smiled back at him. "Okay, love." She kissed his cheek. "We'll be waiting for you. Remember, it's your night to put the boys to bed."

"Yeah, yeah," Arthur said with a smile. His phone began to ring. "Hold on, someone's ringing me." He checked the caller ID. "Matthew?" He picked it up. "Hello?"

"Arthur!" Matthew gasped out. "Did you hear what happened to the judge's son?"

"Peter?" Arthur asked. "No, I didn't. What happened?" His gaze flickered up to Alice, who was biting her lip. He knew she could hear Matthew, and he hoped Matthew didn't have anything too awful to say.

"They found him dead in an alleyway in the middle of the night!" Matthew exclaimed. "It's all over the news! The murderer is targeting children now as well! I thought I should warn you since you have kids yourself."

Arthur felt his blood run cold as he locked eyes with Alice. He could see the tears forming in hers. "Matthew, I'm going to have to let you go so I can talk to Alice about this."

"Sure thing," Matthew said. "I just thought I should tell you. Stay safe." There was a sharp click as he hung up.

Alice's lip quivered a little before she burst into complete sobs. "The murderer is targeting children now?!" she wailed.

Arthur shushed her quickly. "Alice, lower your voice!" he hissed. "We don't want to scare the boys!" He thought for a moment. "From now on, the boys are to stay indoors at all times, understood?"

She nodded. "I can't believe the murderer went after the judge's son!" she whispered. "Does the guy have a death wish?"

"I don't know," Arthur answered. "But what can be confirmed is that the killer is a sick, sick person. I can't believe they would murder an innocent child. That makes me sick." He clenched his jaw. "I hope that the murderer is caught and has to suffer the same fate as the people he's murdered so far. But what I'm wondering is why he's targeting kids. It confuses the hell out of me."

"That's what I'm wondering as well," Alice admitted. She frowned. "Arthur, please be careful when you're out and about. You never know where the murderer may be."

Arthur nodded. "Alice, I swear I'll be careful."

"Good," she said with a nod. Her hands cupped her cheeks. "I love you, Arthur."

"I love you too, Alice." He kissed her lips softly. "I'll stay safe, and I'll keep our family safe as well. None of us are dying on my watch."

"My hero," she softly said with a smile.

.

Tino trembled on the couch in his old living room. It wasn't that he was uncomfortable being alone with Berwald after their separation, but it just felt so awful and strange without Peter there. He knew he would never get used to a life without his little boy. It was something too awful to think about, even though he knew it was too real.

His gaze flickered over to the pictures of their family of three that decorated the wall. They made him feel sick to his stomach. Why did it have to be his little boy? Though he knew the wish was selfish, he just wished it could've been someone else's kid. Why his? It wasn't fair!

"Are you cold?" Berwald asked, walking over to him. He could see Tino's trembles, but he already knew the answer before he asked the question. "Would you like a blanket?"

"How are you so fucking calm?" Tino demanded, glaring up at him.

The truth was, even though Berwald was the one who found their son, it still hadn't sunk in yet that Peter was really dead. He didn't want to believe that his child was to be buried within the week. It was too much for him to handle at that moment in time. He hated it. All he could think of was what would have happened if he hadn't started drinking a year before.

"I blame myself," he softly said, voice barely loud enough for his husband to hear. "Peter is dead because of me…"

"Explain your reasoning behind that," Tino snapped, crossing his arms over his chest angrily.

"If I hadn't started drinking a year ago, this never would have happened!" Berwald suddenly shouted at him. "We would still be happy, and he never would have left your new house last night! It's my fucking fault, Tino!"

Tino's eyes widened in shock as he stared up at Berwald. His husband's reasoning hardly seemed fair. Sure, he wanted something to blame, but anything but Berwald. "No," he softly said. "It's not your fault, Ber."

"And how is it not?" the tall, Swedish man demanded. "I drove you two away, which upset him to the point that he ran out in the middle of the night and got killed! Tell me how that's not my fucking fault, Tino!"

"It just doesn't seem fair!" Tino shouted back at him. "You didn't kill him, Berwald! Now stop!" Tears streamed down his cheeks. "I can't take it anymore! It hurts so much! Our child is dead and all you can think of is this?!" He buried his face in his hands. "Just stop it!"

Berwald frowned. He hated seeing Tino so upset when sober. Usually he could handle it when he had a couple drinks in him, but at that moment in time, he couldn't help but blame the alcohol for what happened. "I'm going to stop drinking," he stated.

Tino looked up at him. "What?" he weakly asked.

"You heard me," Berwald said. "The alcohol broke up our family and caused this. I'm done with it. Starting today, I'm going to be sober."

"Ber," Tino softly said. He could see how Berwald had come to that decision, but could he really do it? "I'll support you."

"It made me lose sight of what was important to me," Berwald continued. "And now I've lost one of the most precious things in my life. I never want to go through something like that again. I'm going to quit. You'll see."

"I'll believe it when I see it," Tino simply stated, laying down on the couch and curling up into fetal position. "Now go away so I can sleep."


	12. Chapter 12

A funeral for a child is always the worst kind of occasion to ever attend. The family of the child is always in hysterics, sobbing the whole time. Usually the mother is thinking she's internally screaming, but sometimes it's external. But not this funeral.

The funeral for little Peter Oxenstierna was unlike anything the town had ever been to. It was held in the park so anyone could attend. The sun was shining brightly that day, and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. People filled the park as far back as the speaker system could reach. It seemed as if the whole town had turned up.

Tino and Berwald sat in the front together, neither of them even speaking to each other as they stared at the small casket that held their only son. It was finally real to them that this was the last time they would ever see each other in person, yet neither of them could even produce tears anymore. They had both been crying all week in the comfort of Berwald's home, behind closed doors where neither of them could see the other.

Ivan stood somewhere near the middle with Alfred. He felt uncomfortable being there, for some reason. Funerals always made him feel that way, but he felt he didn't have a choice. This was a child that everyone in the town knew and loved. It would feel wrong not to go.

"Where is he?" Alfred muttered to himself before the funeral had started.

"Who?" Ivan asked, looking over at him curiously. "You're not looking for Mr. Kirkland or Mr. Williams, are you?"

"I'm looking for one of them," Alfred said. "I just want to be able to process all of this when it's over." He frowned and looked at Ivan. "This kid used to live down the street from me. It's scary knowing that he's dead."

"What's so scary about death?" Ivan asked him, blinking his eyes in confusion. "I don't find death scary at all. If the murderer wants to come for me, let him. I don't mind dying. It just means that I'll be with Chun-Yan again."

Alfred sighed. "You must really miss her, huh?" he asked, giving Ivan a sympathetic look. "I know you two were close friends. You must still be taking all of these murders hard. Do you think the person who killed Peter and Eduard killed Chun-Yan?"

"There's no doubt about it," Ivan answered, nodding solemnly. "I know Chun-Yan didn't have anything carved into her like the last two victims, but just call it a weird feeling."

The quarterback nodded. "I can understand that. But just tell me you won't pursue the murderer. That's a way to get killed, and you're a pretty cool guy. I wouldn't want something to happen to you."

"But what if I want something to happen to me?" Ivan muttered.

"What was that?" Alfred asked as the preacher for the funeral stepped up.

"Nothing," Ivan answered, looking straight ahead. "It wasn't important."

.

After the funeral, Leon approached Emil and awkwardly stood there. He peered at the Scandinavian boy with his dark eyes for a moment before realizing he was with his brother and his brother's husband.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything," he quietly said, getting Emil's attention.

"You're not interrupting anything, kid," Mathias answered for Emil, who immediately had an inner urge to strangle him. "What's up? Got a name?"

"I'm Leon Wang," he answered. "I'm a friend of Emil's from school."

"I wouldn't exactly call us friends," Emil grumbled, getting smacked upside the head by Lukas, who shot him a sharp look when he glared up at him. "What? I wouldn't!"

Lukas flicked his ear and mouthed, "Knock it off."

"I'm Emil's brother Mathias," he answered.

"Brother-in-law," Emil corrected with a groan, earning him another flick to the ear. He smacked Lukas's hands away, glaring at his brother. He didn't care about being nice to Leon.

"It's nice to meet you, Mathias," Leon said with a smile. "Emil has told me a lot about you and Lukas."

"No I haven't, I don't even talk to you," Emil grumbled.

Lukas grabbed Emil and dragged him away from the conversation Leon and Mathias were having. "What is your problem today?" he demanded. "I don't understand you. Did you take your medicine like I asked you to before leaving the house?"

Emil rolled his eyes. "Of course I did, you idiot!" he snapped. "It's that Asian kid that I have a problem with. He stalks me. I've never really said anything to him in my life, and somehow he knows just about everything about me. It's creepy as shit, and I don't like it!"

"Maybe he just wants to be your friend," Lukas suggested. "Have you ever thought that he might be lonely after his sister died? No, because it seems to me that you only think about yourself, Emil!"

"And that's a bad thing, why?" Emil asked. "At least I know what to do to keep myself safe."

Lukas was quiet for a moment. "Mathias told me about those weird phone calls you've been getting for the past month or so. Do you think it's Leon?"

"Don't make me laugh, Lukas," Emil scoffed. "Leon wouldn't have the balls to call me and masturbate to the sound of my voice when I answer the phone." He rolled his eyes. "Get real." But deep down inside, he knew that it was Leon.

"It was just a question, Emil," Lukas said. "But just know this. Mathias and I are thinking about changing your phone number soon."

"Don't do that," Emil said.

"And why not?" Lukas asked.

"Because I don't want to go to the hassle of giving my new number to my friends all over again," Emil sighed. "It's too much work."

The real reason was that he secretly enjoyed the calls from his anonymous caller and had recently started joining him in the past week. Together, they would just quietly sit there on the phone and relieve stress together every night in the middle of the night. No words were really said except for Emil saying "Hello" and "Goodbye". That was all that needed to be said. Everything else was just heavy panting. But for some reason, Emil loved it, though he'd never admit it to anyone.

"You are so fucking weird," Lukas groaned. "Now, we're going to go back over there, and I want you to talk to Leon and be nice to him, okay?"

"I'll talk to him if I can talk to him alone," Emil said. "And trust me, I'll be nice."

Lukas thought about it for a moment. "I swear to God, Emil, if you say one bad thing to him…."

"I won't!" he snapped. Emil stormed over to Leon and Mathias and grabbed Leon's arm, dragging him over to a spot where no one else could hear their conversation. "Look, I have a question for you."

"What?" Leon asked, a bit dazed by Emil dragging him away so suddenly.

"How did you get my number?" Emil asked him.

"How did I what?" Leon asked, cocking his head to the side in confusion.

"You heard me. How did you get my phone number, Leon? I know it's you who calls me just to wank off to my voice at night," he whispered, even though no one would have heard him if his voice was at a normal volume level.

"How did you-"

"How did I know it was you?" Emil asked. "It took a couple weeks, but I narrowed it all down. You're also the one leaving me those admirer notes with the help of your friends, aren't you?" He smirked when Leon nodded. "You've got a lot of nerve, you know that?"

"I'm sorry," Leon quietly said. "I just…"

"You know, you're pretty fucking weird," Emil told him. "I kinda like that, though." He grabbed Leon and took him behind a massive oak tree where no one could see them. "It's pretty kinky, don't you think?"

"It's what?" Leon asked, eyes wide.

Without another word, Emil crashed his lips into Leon's. He didn't stop there, though. His lips opened Leon's, which the Asian boy kept open willingly after, and he dove his tongue in to explore the other boy's mouth. His arms wrapped around Leon's body and held him close as he felt all of the tension between them fade away.

Emil had known this was going to happen for awhile, but he didn't expect it to happen in public at a funeral! Ever since he started joining in during the late-night phone calls, he knew that he was going to eventually give in to Leon's charm and things wouldn't be the same after that. Now here he was, his tongue halfway down Leon's throat, and there was no going back after that.

"Wow," Leon softly stated when they finally pulled apart for air. He was panting, along with Emil. "I wasn't expecting this."

"Yeah?" Emil asked. "Expect the unexpected. Leon, I don't know what made me feel this way about you, but I kind of like it."

"You do?" the Asian boy asked. "Well I'm glad."

"Yeah?" Emil asked. "So am I." Then he pulled Leon in for another kiss.

.

"Mr. K!" Alfred called, running over to the Kirkland family after the funeral. He could see that Mrs. Kirkland had been crying and tried his best to be sensitive to that. "Can I talk to you?"

Arthur looked up from comforting Alice. "Is everything alright, Alfred?" he asked, concerned.

Alice looked up as well. "Oh, Alfred," she softly said, noticing his bloodshot eyes. She pulled him into an unexpected hug. Since they weren't in the school, she knew it was safe for her to hug him. "It's just awful, isn't it? Such a young boy shouldn't have to die this way."

"It's terrible," Alfred admitted. "And Ivan ditched me halfway through the funeral. He couldn't handle it." He frowned and peeked over his shoulder at Arthur. "Where are your boys? Don't you two have three kids?"

"They're at home with a nanny," Alice answered. "We couldn't bring them to a funeral for a boy twice Allistor's age. It just didn't seem right. Surely you understand, dear."

"Of course," Alfred answered.

"Why don't you run along home, darling?" Arthur suggested. "I think Alfred needs to talk and process what's going on."

Alice nodded and gave Alfred one last squeeze. "Please take care of yourself, Alfred," she softly said. "I would hate to see something happen to you." She pulled away and smiled at the young man. "I will see you at school tomorrow then." Alice walked over to Arthur. "And I will see you at home," she said before pecking his lips and walking away.

"Do you live near here?" Alfred asked.

"Yeah," Arthur answered. "Otherwise I would've driven her home and come back." He nodded away from the crowds of people. "Now let's walk and talk, shall we? You need to process some things, don't you? I'm sure today was scary and difficult for you. It was the same for me. Then again, I have three young sons. I can't imagine how Berwald and Tino must feel right now."

Alfred nodded. "There is so much on my mind right now, Arthur," he softly admitted. "And it's things that I just don't feel comfortable talking to my brother about."

"But you feel comfortable talking to me about it, right?" Arthur asked.

"Of course," Alfred answered. "I feel comfortable talking to you about anything." He sighed and blew his bangs out of his eyes. "I'm terrified that I'm on the target list, Arthur."

"What would you have done to be on the target list?" Arthur asked him.

"What did Chun-Yan, Eduard, and Peter do?" Alfred shot back.

Arthur was silent for a few moments as they walked. "You have a point. I guess it's just that I don't want to believe that you could ever become a target for the murderer. It would be too painful for me."

"And why would that be?" Alfred asked. "You're married to another. You have Alice."

"But that doesn't make you any less special to me, Alfred. You know that." Arthur sighed. "It's all just so complicated."

Alfred rolled his eyes. "Everything is complicated. That's why we can only fool around together, right?" He kicked a rock and watched it skip up ahead of them. "I don't understand it, Arthur. Why are you leading me on like this? And more importantly, why am I letting you?"

"What do you mean?" Arthur asked.

"I can't be hopeful about gaining anything from our relationship," Alfred answered. "You will never care for me in the way that I care for you."

"That's not true," Arthur quickly said. "Alfred, I do care deeply for you."

"Then why can't you ever prove things like that?" Alfred asked. "I find myself sneaking around for you all the time, but you can't even do that much for me. I know that you're married and all, but you know what? I'm tired of it all being one-sided." He looked Arthur in the beautiful emerald eyes that he had grown to love. "I can't keep doing this, Arthur."

"What are you saying?" Arthur asked.

"Prove that you care about me, or I can't keep sneaking," Alfred answered.

Arthur looked around to see that they were far enough away from people to not be able to be recognized and pulled Alfred into a passionate kiss. "Alfred, please don't say things like that. You have no idea how much I enjoy you."

Alfred blinked his eyes in surprise. "Then why can't you just do things like that more often? Why am I always making the first move?"

"Because it's time that I grew a backbone," Arthur answered.

Alfred grinned. "I can't wait to see this backbone of yours."

"It'll make all of your effort worthwhile."


	13. Chapter 13

Gilbert walked into the school the next morning in a manner that said, "I'm back, but at what a cost." His usual smirk was missing from his face. There was no confidence in his step. Everything about him seemed off as he walked straight to Matthew's office. Then again, being under house arrest for so long could do that to a kid.

He pounded on Matthew's office door. "Matt, let me in! I need to talk to you!" he demanded. When there was no answer, he knocked harder. His anxiety was starting to kick in. He really needed a cigarette, but classes hadn't started yet, so he couldn't sneak out of the school building for one. This was bad!

"Gilbert?" a voice asked. Gilbert turned around to see the secretary, Ms. Schmit, looking at him. Her big, green eyes held pity in them. "I'm sorry, but Mr. Williams is out sick today. Is there something you need?"

Right then and there, Gilbert wanted to break down, but he knew he had to hold it all together. "No," he simply stated. "Thank you, Ms. Schmit."

She nodded, her blond curls bouncing. "Anytime, Gil." Her slight smile turned into a frown once the boy left the offices. "That poor boy…"

Gilbert waited by the front door of the school for the bell to ring, and once it rang, he sprinted out into the courtyard and hid in the bushes. Once there, he pulled out a cigarette and lit it, letting the nicotine into his body. He hated that Matthew wasn't there when he needed that idiot the most. Why did he have to be sick that day?

Ever since Gilbert had been accused of murder, people had been treating him differently. Even his own family. He wasn't allowed to leave his house, which seemed like punishment enough since everyone knew what a social butterfly Gilbert really was. But when he finally came back to school that morning, he could heart people whispering about him. He could hear Eduard's name in their whispers as well.

His eyes filled with tears as he firmly held that cigarette between his middle and index finger.

Why couldn't people just see that he didn't hurt anyone? Sure, he picked on Eduard, but he didn't want the rat to die! That was crazy! No one deserved to die!

After finishing his cigarette, Gilbert emerged from the bushes and dusted himself off. He knew who he wanted to talk to before going to any classes; the woman who had screwed his life up nearly beyond repair. Of course, he was going to be mature about it. All he wanted to do was tell her what a toll it had taken on him. That was all he was going to do.

He slowly made his way to the library, legs shaking from his nerves. Perhaps he should have smoked one more cigarette before confronting her. No, Gil, he thought to himself. Either you do it now, or you'll never do it. I know you. His legs carried him up to that library desk and he cleared his throat.

Alice Kirkland turned around and jumped at the sight of Gilbert Beilschmidt before her. She knew that the confrontation was going to come, but she didn't expect it to be so soon. "C-Can I help you, Gilbert?" she softly asked him, trying not to stutter too much.

"Can we talk, Mrs. Kirkland?" Gilbert asked. "All I ask if for five minutes of your time. I'm sure you can spare me that much after what's happened to me." His crimson gaze bore into her emerald one. "I just want to talk."

"Very well," Alice decided, seeing as he didn't seem hostile. She nodded to herself and put Emil in charge of the library, even though he didn't seem to be paying much attention, getting distracted by Leon. "Let's talk over in the alcove, shall we?" Alice led the way to the corner of the library where there was a small sofa.

Two students sat on the sofa and Alice cleared her throat and politely asked them to move. When the students saw who was with her, they quickly got up and rushed away. Alice then proceeded to sit down as Gilbert sat next to her.

"I wanted to start by saying, I know it wasn't completely your fault," Gilbert sighed. "You were only doing your job and reporting the bullying that you saw." He glared at Alice when he saw her breathe a sigh of relief. "But you are not completely off the hook for your actions, Mrs. Kirkland. You should have never put it in my grandfather's head that I murdered Eduard Von Bock unless if you had proof, which you didn't."

"But Gilbert, I never-"

"I spoke with him myself," Gilbert said. "He overheard you tell someone that you suspected I did it after seeing me bully him the day he died. From now on, all that I ask is that if you choose to talk shit about your students, do it at home, and not on the job. If you do it on the job, another student might have to suffer because of you. I was proven innocent when Peter Oxenstierna was murdered because I was home that night, just like the night that Eduard Von Bock was murdered." He shot Alice a glare, which made her shift in her seat uncomfortably. "I may not be the most motivated student here, but I'm not a bad person. The sooner you realize that, the sooner we can get along. Please, don't ever slander my name again."

Gilbert stood up, nodded to Alice, and then left the library, leaving the librarian alone with her thoughts.

Alice just sat there for a moment, stunned. So it really was her fault that he was convicted? She felt her stomach sink. She felt sick. How could she have done that to a student? Had her boss really heard her say that and took her seriously enough to punish his own flesh and blood like that? She then began to wonder if working at that school was really something she should be doing after all.

.

Ivan sat at his desk in science class, watching Mr. Bonnefoy lecture the class on atoms or whatever the lecture was on that day. He wasn't really paying attention. What he was really thinking about was the funeral he had attended the day before.

It was horrible. Who would kill a child, someone so innocent? No one in their right mind would blatantly murder a kid! It just didn't add up. Why would someone go for Yao and Chun-Yan, Eduard, and then a kid like Peter Oxenstierna? Where was the pattern in all of it?

Then a horrifying thought came to him. What if there was no pattern? What if the murderer just murdered at random? Who would be next? What if he were to be walking around outside late at night? Would he get murdered, too? There was only one way to find out.

"Ivan Braginsky, are you listening to me?" Mr. Bonnefoy asked him, bright blue eyes like daggers into his student.

"Of course," Ivan answered, pretending he knew what was going on. "I know exactly what we're talking about. It's atoms, right? You're explaining the positive and negative charges of them." Oh, how he hoped he was right...

Mr. Bonnefoy glared at his student before letting it slide. "Very well, Braginsky. I see I underestimated you. But for God's sake, can you at least look like you're paying attention for once?"

Ivan went back to thinking and spacing off. At least he remembered what the lecture was about. That was a blessing in disguise. He usually hated science class anyway.

His mind then drifted back to his plan. His mother worked late that night, so he was going to go for a walk to see if he could catch the murderer. And if he did, oh, was he going to make that man pay…

.

Emil pulled Leon into the door of the apartment he shared with Lukas and Mathias. He knew his brother wouldn't be home until later, but he wasn't sure about Mathias. His eyes scanned the front room before pulling Leon in further.

"Okay, the coast is clear," Leon stated, turning to Leon.

"Why are we sneaking inside of your house?" Leon asked, confused.

"My brother is so far up my ass," Emil sighed. He then turned to Leon, dropping his bag to the floor. "How about I show you my bedroom?"

The Asian boy felt his heart pick up in speed. "Uh, sure," he said. He picked up Emil's bag and followed him down the hall to his bedroom. His heart raced even faster when Emil shut and locked the door after them. "What did you have in mind?"

"Well Lukas doesn't get home for another half hour or so," Emil slowly said, taking small, flirtatious steps over to Leon. "I was thinking that maybe we could have some fun."

Leon gulped. "Fun?" he asked. How could Emil not hear his heart thumping loudly in his chest? How could Emil's neighbors not hear it? He saw Emil's facial expression and knew immediately what kind of fun Emil intended on having. "Oh. That kind of fun."

Emil walked over to Leon and pressed his lips to the other boy's. He didn't stop there. His hands began to wander the other boy's body until he suddenly broke the kiss off as well.

"Don't be awkward," Emil instructed. "Explore my body as well." He grabbed one of Leon's hands and placed it on his hip. "Like this." He pressed down on Leon's hand as he pulled him in for another kiss.

Leon had never done anything like this before, but it excited him. His hands freely roamed Emil's body until they came to the front of his jeans, which was where Emil's hands stopped on his own.

Both boys looked at each other, wide-eyed, unsure of where to go from there. Neither had ever been this far with anyone, let alone another boy! Slowly, Emil unbuttoned Leon's jeans and reached down into his boxers. Leon slowly did the same.

The two then began to caress each other's length as they kissed, soft and sometimes louder moans coming from their mouths, but neither wanting their climax to hit and ruin all of the fun.

Suddenly, there was a knock on Emil's bedroom door that ruined it all as Mathias's voice was heard from the other side. "What the hell is going on in there, Emil?!"

.

Later that night, Emil sat on the couch, Leon long gone, glaring at Mathias, as his brother-in-law recited to his husband what he had come home to. Lukas stood there in disbelief. It was almost as if he couldn't believe his baby brother would do things like that with another boy, ignoring the fact that he himself was gay.

"Emil, is he telling the truth?" Lukas finally asked, unable to think logically. "Did Mathias really come home to you jerking off that Asian kid from yesterday?"

The younger brother averted his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. "I don't see what the big deal is," he grumbled to himself. "I'm sure you two jerk each other off all the time. I know you do worse than that."

"That's not the point," Lukas snarled at him. "Just yesterday, you were telling me you had a problem with that kid, and now you're over here basically having sex with him!"

"We weren't having sex!" Emil shouted at him, unable to stay quiet any longer. "I'm sorry that I've finally found someone who understands me! I'm sorry that I've finally found someone who makes me want to be better! In case you didn't notice, I've started taking my medication every day! I haven't forgotten in the past week!"

"And you want me to believe it's because of him?" Lukas asked.

"I want you to believe it's because I've found something worth living for," Emil snarkily responded. "You know, just the thought of living here with you two made me want to die not so long ago, but living with mom in Iceland sounded even worse. But now, maybe staying with you doesn't seem so bad because I've finally found someone who makes all your bullshit worth it. Until somebody had to come home and make a big fuss about it!" He glared over at Mathias as he said the final sentence.

"Emil, you are underage," Mathias said. "That Leon kid is underage as well. Do you know how much trouble you two could get in if caught?"

"We weren't having sex!" Emil shouted.

Lukas sighed and slapped his palm to his forehead. This was going nowhere. "Emil, what was that part about you wanting to die?"

Emil, realizing what he had admitted, quickly shut his mouth. "Nothing."

"No, you said that living with us makes you want to die," Lukas told him. "Is that how you really feel about us?"

"Sometimes," Emil admitted. "You guys are too hard on me. I'm just one teenager. I make mistakes. Mat's kind of a dick."

Mathias grumbled something to himself, but Lukas ignored him as he said, "So living with us is less preferable to death?"

"Don't twist my words around like that!" Emil yelled at him. "That's not fair, Lukas!"

"That's what you basically said," the older brother answered. "Do you really feel that way?"

"No."

"Then why did you say it?" he demanded. "If it wasn't the truth, then why did you fucking say it, Emil? Things like that are not a fucking joke!"

"Because I want you to know how serious I am about Leon!" Emil shouted. "I want you to know that maybe I actually like someone the way you like Mathias!" He rose to his feet. "Fuck you, Lukas!" Already having his shoes on, he ran out the front door without looking back.

Lukas made for the door to go after him, but Mathias held him back. "Mat, let go!" he yelled. "I have to go after him! I need to tell him that I'm sorry!"

"Let him cool down," Mathias answered. "Emil needs a little time to himself."

"But there's a murderer out there, Mathias!" his husband cried out. "What if he gets Emil?!" He felt his stomach form into a knot. If the murderer got Emil, how would Lukas ever explain that to their mom? Just the thought of it made him sick.

"He'll be back within an hour," Mathias said. "And if not, we'll go looking for him."

"Forty-five minutes," Lukas fumed before breaking free from Mathias's hold and storming off to the kitchen to make some coffee.


	14. Chapter 14

Emil pulled out his phone and dialed Leon's number once he was out on the street. He needed to talk to someone he could trust not to twist his words in his panic. His heart was racing, and he knew he was in the middle of a full-blown anxiety attack. He couldn't believe he had admitted to Lukas that he wanted to die! What the fuck was he thinking?!

Leon picked up on the first ring. "Emil, is everything okay?"

"Nothing is okay!" Emil gasped out. "My brother said some things to me and I freaked out and said some stuff I shouldn't have!" He was near the point of hyperventilation. "Can you meet me at the park between our houses? Please?"

"Yeah, sure thing," Leon quickly said. "I'll see you there in five." There was a click as he hung up.

Emil held his head in his hands. What had he just done? Lukas and Mathias were going to kill him when he got home! But he couldn't go back just yet. Everything seemed so off, and the world was spinning. He could barely breathe. All he wanted at that moment was Leon.

When he got to the park, he noticed that Leon wasn't there yet, so he sat on the swings and pulled his jacket tightly in around him. It was a colder night, and the windchill just made it even worse. He frowned to himself as he began to push the swing to and fro with his feet. Why couldn't things just go right for once? Why did he always have to fight with his family? It wasn't fair! And why did he have to tell them he wanted to die? That was the worst!

Pounding footsteps were heard running toward him and he looked up to see Leon sprinting toward him. He quickly wiped his eyes and asked in a weak voice, "Did you run here?"

"Well I couldn't just leave you in distress, now could I?" Leon asked with a grin. He bent over to catch his breath. "Besides, running is good for you." He sat on the swing next to Emil's. "So what's going on? What happened after Mathias chased me out?"

Emil swallowed. "Well, I stayed in my room until Lukas came home, and then everything went to hell. We started yelling at each other, and then I told them that you're the only reason I even want to be alive…" His voice trailed off. "It's just stupid. It's all so fucking stupid."

"If it's important to you, then it's not stupid," Leon simply stated. "And I'm glad that I'm a reason to be alive. Come here." He pulled Emil into a hug and kissed the top of his head. "Everything is going to be okay, Emil. I promise."

"How can you be so sure?" the silver-haired boy asked him, hiccuping. "Things aren't always that simple. What if we get caught by the murderer while we're out here tonight?"

"Then we'll at least go together," Leon answered with a shrug.

Emil chuckled darkly. "It's so like you to answer like that." He frowned. "Why did I waste so much time distancing myself from you?" he asked no one in particular. "If I knew I would be this happy, I would have accepted your love much earlier."

"Y-You would have?" Leon asked, trying his best not to stammer in his surprise. His eyes were wide, but he decided to keep it cool. "I-I mean, of course you would have." He smiled confidently until Emil reached up and pinched his cheek. "Ow! What was that for?"

"You're a terrible liar," the other boy laughed. "You wouldn't have known that." He brought his hand back down to his lap and smiled. "But thanks anyway. It helped me feel a little better." Emil shivered slightly from the biting wind outside. He knew he should have grabbed a warmer jacket on his way out the door, but he was just too upset to.

Leon frowned. "Are you cold?" he asked. He began to shrug out of his own jacket.

"No, it's okay," Emil quickly said. "I don't want you getting sick because of me. I'll manage. I'm used to the cold. I'm from Scandinavia, remember? This here is nothing." He smiled up at Leon, struggling to keep his teeth from chattering.

"How about we warm up?" Leon suggestively asked, raising an eyebrow at Emil.

The other boy felt his heart pick up in pace. "D-Do what?" he asked. "What do you mean?"

"You know, we could just pick up where we left off in your bedroom," the Asian boy answered, nodding toward the public bathroom at the park that was open year-round.

Emil's eyes widened as he looked up at Leon. "You really want to do that even though we haven't even been together for a week?" he asked.

Leon chuckled to himself. "Emil, we've been doing similar things through phone calls for a couple months now, haven't we?" he asked.

Emil weighed that out in his head. It was true, they sort of had. He then got up from his swing and held his hand out to Leon. If he was going to lose his virginity that night, he didn't want it to be to anyone but him. "Let's go," he said.

This time, it was Leon's turn to be shocked. "You're serious? You really want to do it with me?" Nevertheless, he took Emil's hand.

The Icelandic boy pulled his boyfriend to his feet. "You're the one who suggested it, so don't act all surprised and shit when I accept," he huffed. "Now let's go." And with that, he led Leon to the public bathroom of the park.

.

Lukas paced in the living room of the apartment, coffee in hand. He was on his second cup as his pacing picked up in speed. "Mat, we have to go," he kept saying. "Emil is in danger. I can sense it."

"It's the coffee," Mathias answered, looking up from the magazine he was flipping through on the couch. "He's only been gone for twenty minutes."

"Yeah, twenty minutes too long!" Lukas nearly shouted. "I need to know that he's safe, Mathias, okay?! You may not understand this because you're an only child, but he's my baby brother! It's my ass if something happens to him, and I'll never be able to live with myself knowing that he was hurt because of me!"

"What do you mean because of you?" his husband asked, putting the magazine down.

"We were fighting, and it was my fault. I said things I shouldn't have," the Norwegian sighed. "I said things that resulted in his storming out. "If only I hadn't said what I did, then he'd be perfectly safe and I wouldn't be breaking down like this!"

"And what do you remember saying that caused him to leave?" Mathias asked.

"What are you, a fucking therapist?!" Lukas angrily demanded. "I used his own words against him when he said that death was preferable to living with us!" He polished off his mug of coffee and threw himself onto the couch next to Mathias, burying his face in his hands. "Oh, God! Oh, God! He's in danger!"

"Calm down, Luke," Mathias said, rubbing his back. "I'm sure he's fine."

"'Calm down.' That's all you say! I'm sick of it! My brother is in possible danger with a murderer that's targeting people from his school, and you're just telling me to calm down!" Lukas gave his husband a look made of pure fury. "I need to go out and look for him! I need to tell him that I'm sorry!" He made to get up from the couch, but Mathias, being much stronger than he was, grabbed his arm and held him down. "Let go of me! I need to go and find my brother!"

"Give him a little more time," the Dane answered. "I could not be any more serious, Lukas. If he is still angry and sees us coming for him, he might turn and run, and that won't help him or us."

Lukas slowly nodded to himself, but he couldn't help but think that his brother's life was in serious danger that night.

.

Ivan decided to go to bed early that night. His head was killing him from all of the homework that he was doing. Everything seemed to be piling up for him because his mind always seemed to be elsewhere. His mind was always thinking back to Chun-Yan and the unfortunate circumstance that took her from him.

He knew he would never forgive the man or woman who took his best friend from him. He couldn't. There was no way in hell! Everything was just too hard without her. Ivan had no friends now because of that person. That person was going to pay when Ivan finally caught up to him or her. They were going to pay with everything they had.

As Ivan started to drift off to sleep, something told him that wasn't going to be a normal night. He started having a weird dream again.

In this one, he got up and grabbed the usual boxcutter from the drawer, but this time he also grabbed a brick from the front lawn. His mother was always trying new gardening ideas, so there were always random bricks lying around. Surely, she wouldn't miss one.

He walked for what seemed like miles until he came across a male walking his way. The male was someone he recognized immediately. He was none other than Chun-Yan's younger brother, Leon! And Leon seemed to be distracted by something, as if he were on Cloud Nine.

"Ivan!" he excitedly said. "It's been so long since I've seen you!" He ran over to him. "How have you been?"

"Awful," Ivan flatly stated. "What has you so happy?"

"Nothing really," Leon answered, face turning bright red. He followed Ivan as he continued walking toward a dark alleyway. Little did he knew that Ivan was luring him there. "Where are you walking? Want me to come with you?"

"Yes, actually," Ivan answered, knowing that Leon was too dense to notice what was really going on. "Would you mind coming with me?"

"Not at all," he answered, eager to tag along. He had always looked up to Ivan since he was a kid. Ivan always seemed so cool to him since he knew his sister didn't hang out with just anybody as often as she hung out with him. "What's up?"

Ivan began fiddling with the brick and the boxcutter in his pocket. "Nothing, really," he answered. "Leon, why are you out this late?"

"Well, I came out to meet up with my boyfriend," Leon answered. "He was having a really hard night, but I managed to cheer him up."

"That's good," Ivan answered. He pulled out the brick. "Look, Leon, I've always seen you as a little brother. You've always been annoying as shit, and you've always known too much about me."

"What are you talking about?" Leon asked, noticing the brick in Ivan's hand. "Ivan, what's going on?" His eyes widened as he was piecing it all together. "You killed my family, didn't you? You're the one going around killing everyone, aren't you?" He was too shocked and stunned to move. "Why?"

"Just as I thought, you're too smart," Ivan sighed. "And you know too much." He frowned and tossed the brick in the air, catching it again in his hand. "I'm sorry, Leon, but I believe this is where we part ways."

The Asian boy's eyes widened. "No! Ivan, please! I won't tell anyone if you just let me go!" His heart picked up in pace as he stood there in what he knew were his final moments. "Please don't kill me! I can't die yet! Ivan, please!"

"No amount of pleading will change the fact that I'm going to kill you tonight," Ivan answered with a smirk. Without another word, he walked up behind the other boy and smacked him, hard, in the back of the head with the brick, knocking him out. "I really did think of you as a little brother, Leon," he told the unconscious boy as he fell to the ground. "But I think you'll be much happier with your sister, you know? She needs your company."

He bent over the boy and placed the boxcutter to his throat, stabbing it in and slitting it. For good measure, he stabbed it into one of Leon's temples as well, like he had done with Peter Oxenstierna. He then flipped over Leon's body and pulled up his shirt, carving, "I AM ASLEEP" into his chest. Ivan took one last look at Leon and frowned. "Enjoy your time with your sister since I can't," he said before leaving to wash everything off in the river.

.

Ivan woke with a start. Everything was the same as it always was when he woke from these dreams. He was tired of having them, but then again, he couldn't tell anyone about them without being blamed for the murders, so he always kept them to himself. Though he wondered how long he could contain the burden of knowing how those people died, but wondering whether they actually died by his hand or not.

Though he was nearly certain that he didn't kill them, he was really concerned about who had. After all, he was sleeping every time they died, so it wasn't like he was the one killing all of those people. It was almost as if in his dreams, he was seeing from the eyes of the murderer, and it made him so uncomfortable. He wanted to seek psychological help, but he didn't want people thinking that he was the one doing it. That would be too much.

Ivan's heart raced as he thought about it. It gave him too much anxiety to think about it. What was going on with all of these crazy dreams? But at least he knew who the next victim would be. It was Leon Wang, and that was going to hurt.

What Ivan couldn't understand was why he would say such hurtful things to Leon in his dream. It was true that he thought of Leon as a little brother, but not in the ways he said in the dream.

When they were younger, Ivan would always help Leon with his homework after school and Leon always went to him for advice. Why was Ivan so cruel in those dreams? It was almost as if it were another person posing in his skin. It made him so uncomfortable.

Whatever was going on, it made Ivan uncomfortable, and he wished that it would stop happening.

.

Emil waited up for Leon's phone call that night, but it never came. Instead, he picked up his phone and called instead. There was no answer, and it made Emil nervous. Surely Leon made it home, right?

Maybe he just took the long way home after we had sex, Emil tried to tell himself. He did seem pretty dazed by it. Yeah, that's probably it. Calm down, Emil. There's no reason to be panicking. He'll call you back.

Leon didn't end up calling Emil back that night, so the Icelandic boy made a mental note to lecture his boyfriend the next day at school before crawling into bed and falling asleep. Little did he know what heartache he would face the next day...


	15. Chapter 15

Ludwig Beilschmidt arrived home as his son was getting up for school. He was exhausted and just wanted to sleep, having been on the job since eight the morning before. His entire body craved sleep, but he knew he wouldn't get it after seeing the body of Leon Wang. He knew his mind would be swarming with unanswered questions the whole time he laid there, questions of who killed Leon and why.

"Schatz?" Maria Beilschmidt asked her husband as she walked into the room. She cocked her head to the side with concern. "What's going on?" Her arms wrapped around her tired husband as she buried her head in his muscular chest. "Why were you working so late?" Maria knew what the only reason could have been, but she didn't want to believe it. "Please don't say there was another-"

"There was," Ludwig confirmed. "And it was the last of the Wang family."

"No!" Maria cried out, jumping away from Ludwig and putting her hands over her mouth. "No, it can't be! I just saw him yesterday! He ran past our house just last night!" She shook her head wildly. "There's no way he could be dead!"

"Wait, you said he was running?" Ludwig asked. "Did you see anyone following him?"

"No, there was no one," Maria sadly said. "It was just after sundown. He was running toward the park. I saw him about an hour later, walking back in the direction of his foster home, though. He was still alone." She frowned as she realized what had happened to him. "Poor Leon never made it home, did he?"

Ludwig sadly shook his head. "No, he didn't."

Maria fell to her knees, sobbing. "Why didn't I just invite him in or offer him a ride home last night?" she wailed.

"There is no way you could've known what was going to happen to him, dear," Ludwig said, kneeling next to her. He rubbed comforting circles into his wife's back. "It's not your fault." His fingers comfortingly weaved their way into her silky, white hair. She had albinism, just like their son. "Maria, it's not your fault."

"But I could have prevented it," she sniffled. "I could have helped him, if I only knew."

"But you didn't," he told her. "And that's okay that you didn't."

"No it's not!" she cried out. "He's dead!"

"Who's dead?" Gilbert slowly asked, walking into the room. It made him uncomfortable to see both of his parents on the floor like that. He hated when his mother cried. Though he knew she would never cry for no reason, he couldn't help but wonder what she was crying over. Someone was dead, he knew that much. But who?

"Go sit at the table, Gil," Ludwig told his son. "I will be there in a moment to talk to you."

Gilbert gulped. He didn't like where this was going, yet he did as he was told. When it came to his father, he was always instantly obedient. His father was the town's chief of police, so he always knew what was going on before anyone else seemed to. And from the looks of what his mother was doing, this was some bad news.

Once Ludwig got Maria calmed down, they both came over to the table. Ludwig sat across from Gilbert and Maria sat to Gilbert's right. She grabbed her son's hands and held them tightly as her husband took a deep breath. Her heart was aching for her son, knowing that he knew Leon. She knew that even if Gilbert wasn't super close to someone, even if he just knew of someone, if they died, it was always hard for him.

"I have some troubling news for you," Ludwig began as Maria choked back another sob.

"Who died?" Gilbert slowly asked him. "That's all I want to know, Dad." He struggled to keep his voice from shaking as he spoke, but the anxiety of not knowing was killing him. Why couldn't his dad just come out and tell him, like metaphorically ripping off a bandaid?

"One of your schoolmates passed away last night," Ludwig slowly said. He took a deep breath. "Leon Wang's body was found in an alleyway with the words "I am asleep" carved into his chest."

Gilbert shook his head in disbelief. "No," he softly said. "You're lying. Sure, Leon's an idiot, but he's not stupid enough to get himself murdered, Dad." He felt the tears stinging at his eyes. This was unbelievable. What was all of this coming to? "No, I can't accept this, Dad. It's not fair!"

"Life isn't exactly what anyone would call fair," Ludwig sadly agreed.

"Do you think now that the whole Wang family is gone the killer will stop?" Maria asked, squeezing Gilbert's hands tightly as if she were terrified her son were the next target.

"There's no telling what the killer's true intentions are," her husband slowly answered. "But from now one, Gilbert, you're not allowed outside after the streetlights come on."

"Come on, Dad, I'm not six years old," Gilbert scoffed. "I'm a senior in high school."

"Do you want to die like everyone else is?" Ludwig angrily demanded, shutting his son up. "That's what I thought," he said after a moment of silence. "Please just do as you're told."

.

Matthew Williams heard a knock on his office door and looked up from his computer screen. So far that day, about twelve students had come to his office to get help grieving over Leon. It was a devastating tragedy that had befallen the young boy, just like his sister and father. He was so far behind in paperwork that he almost wanted to pretend that he wasn't there, but he knew that wouldn't be fair to the student on the other side of the door. So instead he called out to the student to come in.

Emil Steilsson opened the door and quickly closed it behind him, as if not wanting anyone to see him entering the guidance counselor's office. His violet eyes looked up at Matthew's before suddenly releasing a river of tears that had been held back all day.

The counselor jumped up from his chair and ran to the boy. "Emil, are you okay?" he asked.

"W-What d-do I do now?" Emil stuttered, grabbing Matthew and clinging to him as if his life depended on it. "L-L-Leon's…." His voice trailed off, as if saying that Leon was dead would actually confirm that it was true. "I-I-I c-can't….." He broke off into body-wracking sobs.

Matthew's heart shattered in his chest. Everything had suddenly connected in his brain. Emil must've been Leon's boyfriend or something like that. No wonder the Icelandic boy didn't want anyone to see him cry like this.

Knowing full well that he wasn't supposed to, and also not giving the slightest of fucks, Matthew hugged the small boy that was clinging to him. Emil immediately hugged him back tightly as if Matthew were a safe haven that would disappear if he didn't hold on to him.

Once Emil was calm enough, he pulled away from Matthew and looked him in the eyes. "I killed him, didn't I, Mr. Williams?" he asked.

"What on earth would make you think that?" Matthew asked Emil, eyes widening. He was intrigued to hear how Emil would have supposedly killed his own boyfriend. Some things just didn't seem to add up on Emil's side regarding killing Leon.

"Last night, I had asked him to meet me at the park because I was upset with my brother and had gone there," Emil began. He began to tense up once more. "If I hadn't done that, then he would still be alive because he died on his way home. He didn't make it home last night because of me!" His fist slammed against the brick wall of Matthew's office. "If I hadn't asked him to meet me at the park last night, he'd still be alive today!" Emil didn't notice the blood on his knuckles as he angrily shook in place. "It's my fault, Mr. Williams," he softly said.

Matthew's heart ached for Emil. "It's not your fault, Emil," he slowly said.

"Yes it is!" Emil shouted. "It's all my fault!"

"Emil, listen to me," Matthew calmly stated. "It's not. You did nothing wrong. In life, we all make choices. Leon chose to come and be with you on his final night. And if you were able to ask him, I don't think he would regret it."

The young Icelandic boy went quiet. He felt so numb that he couldn't feel the ache in his knuckles or the blood trickling down his fingers, which a couple were probably broken from the punch. His eyes filled with tears once again as he started crying again. "You really think he wouldn't?"

"I don't think he would at all," Matthew answered. "Because he was with someone he loved."

"He loved me a lot, didn't he?" Emil slowly asked no one in particular. It was then that he started getting feeling back in his hands and cried out in pain, looking at his bleeding knuckles. The blood was starting to spatter on the linoleum of the floor of the office. "Mr. Williams, could we get a nurse in here?"

"Right away, Emil," Matthew said before picking up his phone and dialing the nurse's extension.

.

Alfred looked to Arthur as they stood behind the school after hours. He hated that Arthur was smoking, but he knew better than to bring that up. After all, another one of his students had died. His breath caught in his lungs as Arthur turned to face him, emerald gaze locking with his blue one.

"Don't you have a game to prepare for?" Arthur asked, speaking around the cigarette in his mouth. "I'd rather you didn't damage your lungs around me."

The quarterback blew it off with a careless wave of his hand. "Don't worry about it," he said. "And yes, I'm aware that it's a Friday. But I don't have to get ready for the game until five. I still have about an hour and a half until I need to go." Alfred grimaced over at Arthur. "The game tonight is dedicated to Leon, Chun-Yan, Eduard, and Peter."

Arthur nodded. "So I've heard. First game of the season, and they dedicate it to the children who've died before they could see it." He sighed. "Now you know you have to win."

"It puts a lot of pressure on me, doesn't it?" Alfred sighed, looking over at Arthur.

The teacher scoffed. "As if you've never been under pressure before. You'll be fine." He placed a reassuring hand on Alfred's shoulder and exhaled his smoke in the opposite direction of the teenager. "Everything will go according to plan."

"You really think so?" Alfred asked. He was glad that his teacher was supporting him so much.

"Of course," Arthur answered, smiling at him.

"You'll be in the crowd, right?" Alfred eagerly asked him, perking up a bit.

"Why wouldn't I be?" the teacher asked his student, smiling warmly.

Overjoyed, the quarterback pumped his fist in the air. "I'll score the winning touchdown just for you!" he cheered.

"Oh, you will?" Arthur asked, amused. He raised his eyebrows in amusement. "What makes you say that?"

"Because you have inspired me to do so!"

"Then I'll just have to see this for myself," Arthur chuckled, putting out his cigarette under his shoe. "Let's go back inside, Alfred. We have more things to discuss."

"Oh really?" Alfred asked, raising an eyebrow with interest. "Like what?"

"Like what your reward will be if you win," Arthur teased.

"You're bad," Alfred teased back with a wink. "But I'm willing to discuss these things with you. So how about it, teach?"

.

Ivan sat on the bleachers of the football stadium, dressed in a warm jacket. The night was cold and wasn't really that great for football, but he wasn't really one to complain about things like that. He was just coming because the game was dedicated to his best friend, and he wanted to support her in the afterlife.

"Hey, mind if we sit with you?" a cheery female voice asked Ivan. He looked up to see a woman with large breasts accompanied by Mr. Williams. He immediately figures she must be his wife, instantly realizing his taste in women.

"I don't mind," Ivan answered, smiling a small smile toward them. He had been sitting alone before they showed up and would like some company. "Please go ahead and sit."

Mr. Williams smiled at Ivan. "Ivan, I would like you to meet my wife, Irunya," he said as the two settled in next to Ivan on the bleachers.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Williams," Ivan said, nodding to her.

"He's so polite!" Irunya happily said. "Please, feel free to call me Irunya!" She smiled widely. "You are just the sweetest!"

That was when Ivan knew it was going to be a good game, not because of the actual game, but because he was actually going to have good company to sit with.


	16. Chapter 16

Elizaveta sat with Monica at the football game for the high school. She and Monica loved to go to the games together to support Gilbert when he was on the football team two years before, but even after he had quit the team, they still went to every home game because they loved the adrenaline of watching the games together. It was also one of the only times they really bonded those days other than their walks. Some sort of barrier seemed to have come up between them recently. It was a barrier that Monica didn't understand.

"Don't your grandparents ever come to these games?" Elizaveta asked Monica that night. They had just got done cheering for a touchdown scored by Alfred Jones. "I mean, shouldn't they, since your grandpa is the headmaster or whatever?"

Monica sighed. "They're getting divorced," she softly said. "So they don't have time to come to silly things like this anymore…"

Elizaveta tried to ignore how broken up her best friend was over her grandparents getting divorced. She also tried to ignore the fact that it was because of her. Putting her long, brunette hair into a ponytail, she frowned and said, "That really sucks. I'm really sorry to hear that, Monica. That's not fair at all…"

"It's really not," Monica agreed, shaking her head in disbelief. "My grandparents had the most perfect marriage there ever was until that tramp showed up and ruined it…"

The other girl didn't exactly like being referred to as a tramp, but she understood why Monica would think that. She knew her best friend would never understand hers and Aldrich's love. After all, Monica didn't understand any kind of love unless if it was hers and Feli's. Even then, their love was strange, and Elizaveta didn't understand the dynamic of it at all. But that didn't mean that she didn't support their relationship. And though she knew it was selfish, she wished that someday Monica would grow to support hers and Aldrich's relationship, but she knew that would never happen.

"How about we just focus on the football?" Elizaveta suggested, smiling at her best friend. "I mean, that Al Jones is a little cutie, isn't he?"

Monica snorted. "He sure is," she laughed. "With that blond hair and those blue eyes, he could have any girl he wanted. But I was always more drawn to his brother when I was going to school here."

"He has a brother?" the other girl asked. "Who?"

"Well his brother was a couple grades ahead of me," Monica answered with a blush. "He's the guidance counselor now. His name is Matthew Williams. I remember one year he asked me to prom, but my mom wouldn't let me go because prom was for juniors and seniors only. I was so devastated."

"But think, if you would've gone to prom with Matthew, then you might not be with Feli now," Elizaveta said. "Some blessings come in disguise."

Monica thought for a moment. "I guess you're right," she said after a long silence. "And Matthew's married now, to some busty chick from Russia, I think. But we still talk when we see each other." She smiled to herself. "I'm glad that he's happy, though. And I'm also glad that he got over me."

.

Matthew looked over to where Monica sat with Elizaveta. He remembered back when he used to have the biggest crush on her in high school. Oh, those were the days, pining over an underclassman that he thought was so out of his league. His mind still couldn't wrap around the fact that she was now with that airheaded deli owner. She could do so much better than him. So much better.

But then there was him, marrying the first woman who ever showed an interest in him after high school. He wasn't much better than Monica, and he knew it. Though he was happy with Irunya, there were times that he still thought of what could've been if he had just asked Monica out in high school. But there was no point in thinking about the what-ifs. There was only the present, the here and now. And he was quite content with his current life. Irunya was wonderful, and he was glad that he had such a wonderful woman who loved him.

"Matvey, are you enjoying the game?" Irunya asked him, slipping her arm through his and smiling. She leaned her head on his arm and smiled up at him before looking out onto the field. "There is so much energy out here. I never thought that so much could happen on one field."

Matthew had to keep reminding himself that this was her first American football game. So far, she had been asking Ivan the rules of the game, and Ivan had accidentally explained a few of them wrong, but she didn't seem to care. Matthew had smiled, watching the two bond with each other. He was glad that Irunya had decided to come along with him. She hadn't been feeling well lately, so he wasn't sure she would want to tag along. Yet once she heard it was dedicated to the kids who had lost their lives, she was up and ready to go within minutes.

"I always enjoy watching Alfred play," Matthew answered. He was being honest. There wasn't a single game that went by where he wasn't proud of his little brother. Alfred always played well when he knew there were people there specifically to cheer him on. "He has a lot of talent in him, and I know he'll make it far one day."

"Just like you planned to one day?" Irunya quietly asked him.

Matthew once had a dream to play hockey professionally, but that dream was dashed when his and Alfred's mother had gotten sick with cancer five years previous. Their mother was all the boys had, and they knew they needed to stick together, whether they wanted to or not. When their mother was put in the hospital the previous spring, Alfred was sent to live with Matthew for a few months. The two had fought like crazy, but Matthew still loved his little brother enough to look past it until their mother was well enough to come back home.

Though Matthew knew their mother would end up back in the hospital again soon, he tried not to think about it. Alfred would be back at his house again, and all hell would break loose once more. But he knew that he just needed to keep loving his brother and everything would be okay.

"Exactly," Matthew answered with a smile. "But I know that my brother will actually do it, unlike me. He has nothing to hold him back."

"Do you regret not becoming a professional hockey player?" Irunya asked Matthew in a voice so low that only he could hear her.

"Not one bit," Matthew answered. "Because it brought me an even better dream." He kissed her softly. "You."

And in that moment, he shot one more glance over at Monica Beilschmidt and almost sighed aloud.

.

After the game, Alfred found his way to Arthur. He made sure to shower in the locker room first, knowing that Arthur hated when he was sweaty and gross. His smile reached from ear to ear. He had scored the winning touchdown, just like he had promised his teacher that he would. All he could do now was hope that Arthur would hold up his end of the bargain.

"It appears as if you did it," Arthur said to Alfred as the quarterback approached him. He had been waiting outside of the school, but made it look as if he wasn't waiting at all. It looked as if he were casually just smoking a cigarette instead. "You know what this means, right?"

Alfred looked around to see that no one else was there. "It means that you need to hold up your end of the bargain, Mr. K," he said with a wink. He laughed as Arthur turned bright red. "No need to blush like that, Arthur. It's just us." Alfred chuckled a little. "But I am expecting my reward."

"Very well then," Arthur said. He grabbed Alfred's hand and led him to the back of the school building, to a spot where people didn't normally go. It was the only place he could think of to take Alfred to where they wouldn't get caught. "Let's get on with it," he decided once they were finally back there.

The quarterback didn't waste any time in claiming his prize. He reached for his teacher and pulled Arthur into his arms, kissing him with every ounce of energy that he had left, smiling when he heard a small moan escape Arthur's lips. Arthur had promised him ten minutes of whatever he wanted, and there was no way Alfred was going to let those ten minutes go to waste.

"You know, I have a slight, growing problem that could use some taking care of," Alfred said, hinting at the growing bulge in his pants.

Arthur almost laughed aloud. "Looks like we have a mutual problem, love." He reached down between them and unbuttoned and unzipped Alfred's pants. "Whatever shall I do about this?" he asked, attempting to sound innocent as he got down on his knees before the quarterback.

Alfred blushed a bright red. He wasn't expecting that, but then again, it was ten minutes of what was supposed to be bliss. Now he realized what it was ten minutes of. It was ten minutes of absolute pleasure from Arthur.

.

Matthew timidly approached Monica after the game, Irunya in tow. "Hey, long time no talk," he greeted, smiling at her. His voice was so quiet that he wondered if she had even heard him for a moment before she turned to him and smiled.

"Matthew! It really has been awhile!" she greeted. "How have you been?" Her sky-blue eyes landed on Irunya. "This must be your lovely wife! Hello, I'm Monica Beilschmidt! It's a pleasure to meet you!"

Irunya smiled warmly at Monica. "I'm very pleased to meet you," she said. "Please call me Irunya." Her eyes took in everything about the girl before her, and she didn't see Monica as even one bit of a threat. Besides, Matthew mentioned that she was dating the local deli owner. "Did you enjoy the game?"

"Of course," Monica answered with a nod. She felt as if the conversation seemed forced, but she didn't want to mention that. "My little brother Gilbert used to play, but he stopped a couple years ago. I still come to support my old school, though."

The Ukrainian woman paused for a moment. Her husband had mentioned a Gilbert coming to his office a lot. Could that be Monica's brother? "That's too bad that he doesn't play anymore. I bet he was great."

Monica smiled. "He was actually pretty terrible. Due to his albinism, his eyesight isn't exactly the best, and he refused to wear glasses on the field." She giggled a little. "He would trip over everything. That's why he was more of a bench warmer than anything."

Matthew chuckled. "I remember those days."

Irunya's cheeks burned with embarrassment. How was she to know that Gilbert was a terrible football player? Now she just felt like a fool. She slipped her hand into Matthew's. "I am beginning to feel unwell again. Could we head home, Matvey?" she asked her husband.

He looked over at her and kissed her forehead, feeling a slight fever against his lips. "Of course, my dear." His lips formed into a smile as he looked back at Monica. "It was nice seeing you, Monica. I'll talk to you later."

"Yeah, talk to you later, Matt," Monica said. She smiled widely at Irunya. "It was nice meeting you, Irunya. I really hope you get to feeling better soon. You're too sweet to be feeling ill."

As much as Irunya wanted to like Monica for her kind words, she couldn't help but feel a burning hatred for the woman building up inside of her as she walked away. Something told her that Monica had a history with Matthew, and she didn't like that. Irunya wasn't usually the jealous type, but something inside of her hinted that Monica was just bad news, and Irunya always trusted her instincts. They had never led her wrong before.

.

Elizaveta walked over to Monica after Matthew and Irunya had walked away and smiled widely. "Okay, so who the hell was that?" she asked, eyes wide. "He was a fucking babe!"

"Matt?" Monica asked. "That was Alfred Jones's older brother."

"You mean the one who asked you to prom?!" Elizaveta squealed. "Oh, damn! Now I can see why you liked him so much! He definitely has that 'shy boy in the streets but dominator in the sheets' type of look about him!"

Monica rolled her eyes. "Is sex all you think about?" she sighed. "Besides, I'm with Feli now, and things are actually going well between us. And Matt is married now, to that woman who was with him."

"You mean Boobs McGee?" Elizaveta asked. "Holy shit, did you see her tits? She's huge!"

Once again, the blonde rolled her eyes. "Yes, Elizaveta, I saw them. She is a rather busty woman."

"Do you think that's his type?" the brunette asked with wide eyes. "Or do you think he just keeps her around to fill the empty space in his heart that can only truly be filled by you?"

Monica began to walk away. "Shut up, Liz."

"Hey, you never know, it could be true!"

"I'm highly doubtful of it," she answered. "And besides, he should be over me by now. I'm over him. It took me five years, but I'm finally over him, and I'm happy! Why can't anyone see that?" She took a deep breath and thought to herself, But am I really?


	17. Chapter 17

After the game, Lilli walked out of the women's locker room and ran into Alfred as he was coming out of the men's. She was surprised to see him coming out of the locker room so late. Usually, he was one of the first ones out after practice, so why was it that he was the last guy out after the first game of the season.

Lilli eyed Alfred suspiciously. "Good evening, Alfred. You played well tonight."

"So did you," Alfred told her, grinning widely. "You are a great kicker and make a great asset to our team."

"Thank you!" Lilli cheerfully replied, beaming with pride. Stop it, Lil! Focus! she thought to herself. "What took you so long in the locker room?"

"Who, me?" Alfred asked. He chuckled to himself. "I got caught up in talking to people after the game and forgot my bag in there. I'm an idiot like that." He quickly decided to change the subject. "Do you need a ride home?" Knowing that he was usually her ride home after football practice, he didn't know if he was her ride after games.

"That would be nice, thank you," Lilli said as they began walking toward the school doors. She decided to buy his story for now. But if things started getting suspicious, then so would she. "You're always so nice to me, giving me rides home and stuff. I really appreciate it."

"Oh, it's nothing," Alfred assured, twirling his keys around his fingers. He whistled a tune to himself as they walked. "So how are you feeling tonight?"

"I'm feeling great!" Lilli answered. "We won the game, Al! And it was all thanks to you!"

He blushed. "It's really nothing," he assured. "I'm sure there are plenty of better high school football players out there." Alfred looked over at Lilli as they exited the school. It was a breezy night and a chilly breeze hit her, making her shiver. He quickly stripped off his jacket and handed it over to her. "Here, put this on. It'll keep you warm."

Lilli looked up at Alfred with wide, green eyes. "Thank you, Al," she softly said, putting it on. "Are you sure you won't be cold."

"Don't worry about me," he laughed. "I'll be fine. Your brother will kill me if you catch a cold on my watch." Alfred patted Lilli's head. "Let's head to my car, Lil. It's over in the student lot."

"Let's make it a race," Lilli decided, smirking up at Alfred. "What do you say, Alfie Boy?"

Alfred narrowed his eyes in playful challenge. "On your mark, get set, go!" he called out as they both broke into a sprint toward his car. He ran as fast as he could, but he couldn't believe how fast Lilli was. She was just barely ahead of him. His pride would be crushed if he let a female freshman beat him in a race. He knew he had to pick up speed, so he imagined Arthur waiting by his car to boost him faster.

They both reached the car at the same time, which was surprising to both of them. Lilli was swift as a deer when she ran, which got her on the track team, and Alfred was the quarterback for a reason. They looked over at each other, wide-eyed and impressed with each other's running talents. Panting for breath, they sat on the hood of his car together.

"I'm impressed that you could keep up," Lilli finally said. "You make a worthy opponent, Alfred Jones." She smiled over at him as she lowered his jacket past her shoulders. "Now I feel as if I'm overheating."

"I can take the jacket back if you'd like," Alfred offered.

Lilli suddenly snuggled back into the jacket. "No, it's fine," she quickly said. "I might get cold again." Though she was burning up inside it, she didn't want to give his jacket back. She didn't want to take the jacket off because it was Alfred Jones's jacket, and he had given it to her to wear. Her, of all people! She never wanted to take it off!

"That's true. It's a pretty brisk night." Alfred looked up at the sky and then smiled over at Lilli. "I'm so hungry. What's your curfew?"

"It's eleven on football nights," Lilli answered, looking over at him. "Why do you ask?"

"I'm absolutely famished," Alfred stated, "and it's about nine-thirty. What do you say me and you go and get something to eat on the way to your house? It'll be my treat for you playing so well tonight. Come on, I know you can't resist that."

"Is that really okay?" Lilli asked, smiling at him.

"Of course," the quarterback laughed. "Why wouldn't it be? You deserve as much recognition for the win as anyone else on the team! Now come on, get in, and we'll go anywhere you want!" He headed toward the driver's side of the car while Lilli just stayed where she was. He looked up to see her there. "Is something wrong, Lilli?" he asked, looking up to see her still in the same place.

"Not at all," she simply said. "I'm just happy is all. Thank you, Alfred."

"Not a problem," he told her. "Now let's go." He grinned widely at her and unlocked the car door so she could get in.

Lilli thought for a moment as she and Alfred drove off toward the restaurant she chose. Was she falling for a boy on her football team? That was impossible. She had promised herself that she would never fall for Alfred Jones and his charms. Yet here she was, sitting in his car and wearing his jacket, hopelessly falling for his charms, and not regretting it. After all, how could she? He was the perfect man.

.

Monica walked into the deli that evening, deep in thought. Stupid Elizaveta for making her question her feelings for a high school crush. Matthew was married! Why was he even questioning her feelings for him anyway? It was ridiculous! Besides, she was with Feliciano anyway, and Feliciano was always good to her. Why would she ever betray his feelings like that, by thinking of another man?

"Good evening, Monica!" Feliciano greeted from behind the counter. He saw the contemplative look on her face and rushed over to her. "Is something wrong, bella?" he asked. Though he wasn't good at sensing the atmosphere of most things, he could always tell when there was something wrong with the woman he loved.

She looked up at him, surprised. "No, it's nothing," she quickly stated, trying to get the distress out of her expression. "I'm perfectly fine." Monica shook her head. "See?" She smiled weakly at him. "It's just something Elizaveta said tonight that made me think. That's all. It's really nothing to worry about, Feli."

"If you're sure," Feliciano said. He leaned in to kiss her cheek, making her smile. "I'm going to be closing shop soon. Would you like to come to my place tonight after? I'll make you a nice meal and we can cuddle on the couch."

Monica smiled at him. "That sounds great to me."

They both looked up as the bell dinged and two teenagers walked into the deli. Monica knew them immediately as two members of the football team, Lilli Zwingli and Alfred Jones. She wondered why they were together and why Lilli was wearing Alfred's jacket, but she thought better than to ask questions.

Alfred led the way up to the counter and ordered the sandwiches from Feliciano, who rushed there after seeing them walk in. Lilli timidly stood behind Alfred, waiting patiently for her food. Though she was a beast on the football field when it came to kicking field goals, she wasn't much of a people person.

"Here you are, Lilli," Alfred said, handing her her sandwich. "You earned it tonight."

She blushed and looked up at him. "Thank you," she softly said before finding a place to sit.

"That's a cute girlfriend you have there," Feliciano told the quarterback. He winked at him. "If she was a little older and I wasn't interested elsewhere, I might give you a little competition."

Alfred turned a deep shade of red. "She's not my girlfriend," he quickly said. "She's just a friend on the same football team as me."

Feliciano's jaw nearly dropped to the floor. "That little girl plays football?"

"Yeah, and she's amazing at it, too," Alfred told him. "She'd kick your ass for calling her little, by the way, so watch it." He began to walk over to the table. "Thanks for the sandwiches, Feliciano!"

Monica walked over to her boyfriend. "Still shocked? I watched her play tonight. She can kick like no other." She whistled low. "That Lilli Zwingli really is something. I wouldn't be surprised if she and Alfie hooked up, though. They would make a pretty bangin' couple."

"But not as bangin' as us, right?" Feliciano asked.

"No one bangs like us," Monica told him with a wink. She laughed as he turned bright red. "And speaking of that, I demand some action of that sort tonight as well, got it?"

The Italian grinned from ear to ear. "Yes, ma'am."

.

Elizaveta had just left Aldrich's home on foot, humming a happy song to herself. It was about midnight, and she was certain she wasn't going to get caught by anyone. Besides, who would be out walking at that time anyway?

Her head was filled with lustful thoughts of the things that she had been doing with her best friend's grandfather. She almost didn't even pay attention to where she was going. Elizaveta was too distracted to notice the person walking behind her.

She stopped at an intersection and noticed a shadow approaching hers. Her heart began to speed up as she turned to see a boy with silvery hair and violet eyes walking behind her, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He almost seemed as if he were in a trance, which was terrifying to her. How would he know where he was going?

"Are you lost?" she called out to him. She figured she should, considering he didn't look a day over sixteen. Perhaps she could help him if he was.

The boy's head snapped up as he locked eyes with her. "No."

Elizaveta instantly felt uneasy with the amount of hatred his eyes held. But there was something odd about the look in them. He just didn't seem as if he were all there. "Are you sure?"

He gave her an annoyed look. "What the fuck do you think?" He then proceeded to walk toward the woods.

Curiosity getting the best of her, Elizaveta wandered into the woods after him, not knowing about the smirk on the boy's face as he heard her footsteps following his. "Hey, you really shouldn't be in these woods this late at night. There's a curfew, you know." When the boy didn't reply, she sighed. "Come on, kid, let's go. This is weird."

As if by some strange magic, she found herself all alone and surrounded by trees. The canopy of leaves made it too dark to see much, but she heard a dark chuckle, which probably came from the boy. Her heart began to race in her chest as she turned toward the exit. She had to get out of there!

"You think you're so smart, don't you?" she heard the boy ask. "There are so many things you think you can do. But you're really just a worthless slut." He chuckled darkly once more. "But don't worry, your time is coming."

"My time for what?" Elizaveta managed to choke out.

"Your time in the spotlight," the boy answered. "Just what you've always wanted, right? Haven't you always dreamed of everyone to know your name and the things you did? Now is your chance. The spotlight will be shining on you soon enough."

"What do you mean by-"

Before she could finish her sentence, the boy came up behind her and used a vine to strangle her with. She made a grab for the vine, but he was too strong. Her vision began to blur, and she couldn't tell if it was tears or the lack of oxygen.

Then it hit her. She was going to die. She was really going to die that night. And there was nothing she could do about it. It was a terrifying thought. Elizaveta began to internally curse herself for following the boy into the woods.

Just before her vision went out completely, she felt a stab to her throat and a quick slice before everything went pitch black.

.

Ivan sat bolt upright in bed. He was drenched in a cold sweat. What was going on? Did he really just dream something so horrific? How could he have dreamed that he would kill an innocent girl like that? What had she even done wrong? She had just been walking! Walking wasn't a crime!

He took some deep breaths to calm himself before he went to the kitchen to get some water from the sink. After downing two glasses of it, he peeked into the living room to find his mother asleep on the couch with the television still on. Ivan smiled to himself and went back to his bedroom.

His mind was filled with thoughts that he didn't understand. Why was he still dreaming these things? What was the killer trying to tell him? How did the killer have access to his dreams? Who was the killer?

Ivan pounded his fist to his head a couple of times, growling out nonsense. He was so frustrated with everything that was going on. He just couldn't understand why this person was targeting just random people. Every death was just so unrelated. What was going on? He was going to get to the bottom of it, and fast.

.

Ludwig Beilschmidt walked into the police station early the next morning to find a swarm of officers waiting for him. He didn't know what to make of it, so he just walked past them, trying not to be noticed.

"Sir!" an officer called out to him.

"What is it?" Ludwig asked, turning to him.

"There's been another body found, and they want you to go and check it out with the crime scene investigators."

The chief groaned, but he went and got in his car. All the way on the drive, he really hoped it wouldn't be another one of those "I AM ASLEEP" murders. Those were the worst because they had no leads whatsoever. They were just random murders from what they could tell.

When he got out of the car, he could already see the yellow tape and pedestrians. He shoved his way through the crowd and his eyes widened when he saw who the victim was; his daughter's best friend, Elizaveta…

Ludwig remembered the days when Elizaveta would come over for sleepovers in junior high and high school, now sad that he would never see her smile ever again. He wondered how Monica felt, or if she even knew yet. His heart ached for his daughter, but he knew that he didn't want to be the one to break the news to her.

There was just one thing that pissed Ludwig off more than anything. On Elizaveta's collarbone there was a phrase carved into it. "I AM ASLEEP". Things had just gotten personal. In that moment, Ludwig vowed to catch the murderer. He was going to make him pay.


	18. Chapter 18

Monica was watching the news the next morning when a special bulletin came on the screen. She sighed as the anchorwoman came upon the screen and began to announce that there had been another murder. As she rolled her eyes, she couldn't help but think about how ridiculous all of the murders were getting.

"The victim is none other than twenty-four-year-old Elizaveta Héderváry of…" the anchorwoman's voice faded into the background as Monica went deaf to everything around her. There was no way the Elizaveta could be dead! She had just seen her last night! There was no way in hell!

"Feli!" she screamed, curling into fetal position on the couch as bitter tears stung at her eyes. "I need you! Please! Please come here!" Everything was falling apart and she couldn't handle it. What was going on in this world?

Her heart was shattering in her chest. Why did it have to be her best friend who had to die? It wasn't fair! The world suddenly seemed like a terrifying place, a place where nothing made sense anymore. There was no way Elizaveta could be dead! There was just no way! It didn't seem right or fair! Elizaveta didn't deserve to die!

Feliciano came running into the room, one arm in a sleeve of his button-up shirt and a toothbrush in his mouth. Upon seeing Monica's state, he took his toothbrush out of his mouth and shrugged into the rest of his shirt, not bothering to button it up. "What's wrong, bella?" he asked her. "Did something happen?"

"Not just something," Monica miserably answered, surprised that she could even talk. Inside, she was screaming. How could this really be happening? How could someone have killed her best friend like that, without a care in the world? She just couldn't comprehend it at all. No one could be that evil, could they?

Upon seeing the state she was in, he ran to her and cuddled her close. "Monica, what happened?" he asked, stroking her hair in a comforting way. "Tell me if you can." He kissed her cheek, tasting the salty tears that were streaming down from her eyes. Though they had been together for months, he had never seen her cry like this and didn't know what to do.

Monica wasn't sure if she would be able to gain the emotional stability to talk. Her best friend was just announced dead on the television! Instead, she pointed to the screen as the story was shown once more. She watched Feliciano's reaction go from confused to devastated before she saw him turn back to her. "Lizzy's dead," she softly whispered.

"Monica," he whispered back, lost for words. Then again, what was there to say at that moment? What could he say? His beloved's best friend was dead. There was nothing he could do about that. There was nothing he could do for Monica. He felt so helpless, and that was something he hoped he would never have to feel regarding her.

Feliciano wrapped his arms tightly around his lover and held her close to him. "Cry it out, Monica," he softly told her. "I'm right here. Cry all you need to. No one is going to say a thing about it."

And Monica did just that.

.

Meanwhile in the Beilschmidt Manor, Aldrich paced the halls as Julia watched him from the sitting room whenever he happened to pass. She couldn't understand why he was pacing so much. Ever since that story had come up on the news about Elizaveta, Aldrich had been this way. Was it because he was thinking of Monica? It had to be. Julia knew how much Aldrich loved his grandchildren, well, granddaughter.

"Aldrich?" Julia asked, walking out of the sitting room as he passed. "Why don't you come in here and sit with me? I have some coffee in here."

He quickly shook his head, his long, white hair drifting around his waist like a mane. "I cannot," he simply said. "I apologize, Julia. I just have too much on my mind at the moment, and I would be a bore to you."

She put a hand on her hip. "Not any more of a bore than you've been lately, I assure you," she bitterly stated. "Now come in here and talk to me. I know you're worried about Monica, and she's my granddaughter as well. I deserve the right to know what you're thinking of saying to her about her friend."

"I can't do this right now, Julia!" Aldrich insisted, raising his voice at her. He clenched his teeth. "Now please leave me be. I need to think. I will talk to you later, Julia, I swear."

Julia clenched her jaw and turned on her heel, storming back into the sitting room and slamming the door. She was just appalled that he had raised his voice at her. He hadn't done something like that since they had first started discussing their divorce about three months before! Though she trusted his word that he would come and speak with her later, she still didn't trust him in general. There was no way she would ever trust a man like Aldrich Beilschmidt again.

Aldrich, on the other hand, continued his pacing, his head filled with thoughts of Elizaveta. He couldn't believe that he had seen her just before she died. How could she have been killed on her way home? It wasn't even that far away! It didn't make any sense! He pondered it in his head over and over. What was going on?

.

Emil laid on his bed and stared up at the ceiling, lost in thought. Every time he got to thinking, his mind would always drift back to one thing. Leon. He still blamed himself for Leon's death. Every day he wondered if Leon would still be with him if only he hadn't called him that night.

He picked up his phone and went to his contacts. Leon's old number was still saved in there. He sighed upon seeing Leon's name. How he wished he could call him up and hear his voice, even if it was only one more time. Now Leon would never speak to anyone again because of him…

His eyes welled up with tears at just the thought of it. Though Mr. Williams had told him not to blame himself for what happened, he was the only one who knew the truth of what happened. He was the only person he could blame until they found the murderer. It wasn't fair, but that was just the way things were. Emil knew he had a part in Leon's death, as big of a part as the murderer did, because Leon wouldn't have been out if it wasn't for him.

"I'm just as bad as the murderer," Emil whispered to himself as the tears began to flow freely. "I don't deserve to live. I killed my own boyfriend." He scrubbed at his eyes with the back of his hands, but he knew the tears wouldn't stop until his eyes were done letting them out. "I killed him." His mind wandered around that fact for about ten minutes before he thought of a resolution for it. "So I must kill myself as well…"

.

Lukas paced nervously in the living room. He had walked past Emil's room just minutes before and heard him crying and muttering to himself, though he couldn't make out what he was saying. It worried him a lot. His brother had been doing that since Leon had died a couple days before. No matter what anyone said to Emil, nothing helped at all.

"Could you please stop doing that?" Mathias asked from the recliner in the corner. "You're really starting to freak me out. You're acting like Emil, and it's starting to bother me. Why don't you just sit down and talk about what's bothering you instead of pacing all the time?"

The Norwegian shot his husband a sharp look. "I'm not bothering anyone with what I'm doing," he snarled at him.

"Well you're bothering me," he stated. "What's bothering you anyway? You're always cranky and upset these days. You were never this way before we got Emil."

"Are you blaming my bad moods on my brother?" Lukas snapped at him, clenching his fists. He was fuming. "Because you better not be. Maybe I'm always in a bad mood because you keep me up late at night, insisting on kisses and only God knows what else!" His voice was becoming louder and louder with each sentence, and as much as he knew Emil hated hearing them fight, he just couldn't help it. "It's not my fault that I'm always in a bad mood! It's yours!"

Now Mathias was angry as well. He put the leg rest of the recliner down and got up. "Don't you dare say that it's my fault that you're always in a shitty mood," he growled at Lukas. "You have a part in it as well."

As Mathias got closer, Lukas could smell the alcohol on his breath. Maybe fighting with him while he was intoxicated wasn't so great of an idea. "When did you start drinking tonight?" he cautiously asked.

"Don't worry about it," Mathias snarled at him. "It's none of your business. This conversation is about you, not me."

Lukas nodded. He understood what that meant. He needed to be careful with his words. "Look, I'm sorry for what I said. Emil is grieving, and it's really affecting me because I can't do anything to help him. That's why I can't sleep at night. I'm sorry for blaming you."

"Yeah? You should be," Mathias said. He looked Lukas in the eye before turning and going back to the recliner. "Don't say something is my fault when it obviously isn't."

The Norwegian put his head down. "I'm going to go and make some coffee," he muttered before going to the kitchen. His tears only fell from his eyes once he was alone in that room, and they fell the whole time he made that damned coffee.

.

Ludwig Beilschmidt was awakened in the early evening from his nap by a phone call that he wasn't expecting. He fumbled around on his nightstand for his phone until his wife handed it to him. "Thanks, liebe," he said to her before kissing her cheek and answering the phone while she rolled over and went back to sleep. "This is Ludwig," he said into the receiver part.

"Beilschmidt, we have yet more troubling news," an officer told him on the other line. "We're going to need you to come down to the station as soon as you can. Your father was just hauled in."

The police chief sat bolt upright. "What's going on?" he demanded. "Why was my father just brought into the station?"

"We will explain once you get here, just please come down here immediately. He's making quite the racket and demands to speak with you," the officer said. "It's getting pretty bad."

Ludwig listened closely and could hear his father yelling in the background. He sighed. "I'll be right down," he said before hanging up. He placed his phone on the nightstand and rubbed at his eyes. "Maria, I'll be home later. My father was dragged down to the police station."

"What for?" Maria asked, rolling over to look at him. Her eyes held concern, even though they also held a sleepy look as well. "Is everything okay?"

"I have no idea," her husband answered. "I'll be back as soon as I can." He leaned down and kissed her before getting out of bed and driving down to the police station to find out what was going on.

He was accosted by other police men at the door, many saying things he didn't understand, so he chose to ignore them and ask the one thing on his mind. "Where is my father?"

"Right this way," one of them said, leading him toward the jail cells.

Ludwig felt sick, knowing his father was in a jail cell. What had his father done to be put in one, he wondered. As they got closer, he could hear someone interrogating another person, and somehow knew they were interrogating his father.

"I didn't do it!" Aldrich yelled. "I would never kill my granddaughter's best friend! That is simply preposterous!"

Ludwig ran to the cell holding Aldrich. Why was his father being questioned for the murder of Elizaveta? This didn't make sense! "Father!" he said, grabbing the bars of the cell. "What is going on?!"

"About time you got here," Aldrich grumbled. He gestured to the interrogator. "Tell this man I would never kill Elizaveta. They brought me in here for murder. Apparently they found a clue that linked me to the murder."

"What kind of clue?" Ludwig asked, scrunching his forehead up in confusion. How could anyone link Aldrich to a murder. The man never left his house unless if it was for work.

"Your semen was found in her body," the interrogator stated. "Good luck explaining your way out of that one, Herr Beilschmidt."

Ludwig suddenly felt sick. Everything suddenly clicked in his mind. "Excuse me, but could I please talk to my father about something?" he asked the interrogator. "I know he didn't kill Elizaveta, but there is something else that I need him to confess to."

"Go right ahead," the interrogator said, making no move to get up at all.

"Elizaveta," Ludwig began. He didn't know how to approach the subject at all and swallowed hard before continuing. "She's your other woman, isn't she?"

Aldrich, suddenly caught in his game, nodded. "Yes. Elizaveta was my mistress."

And in that moment, Ludwig's heart truly felt broken.


	19. Chapter 19

Maria Beilschmidt hummed to herself as she cleaned her kitchen. She knew that her husband liked a clean house whenever he came home, so she always made it that way. Her head only lifted when she heard her son enter the room. Her red-pupiled eyes met his and her heart nearly shattered at his expression.

"Gilbert, is something bothering you?" she asked him, leaning toward him. Maria instantly dropped the rag she was holding and hurried over to him. "What's wrong?"

The teenager sighed. "Do you think Opa is okay?" he quietly asked. "I mean, I know he and I are estranged at the moment, but I'm worried about him." Gilbert sat at the table and buried his head in his arms. "I just want to know if he's okay."

"I'm sure he's fine," Maria answered, rushing over to him. She reached out and rubbed her son's back, trying to comfort him. "Your father is with him. Opa will be fine." She turned her head away, so her son couldn't see her bite her lip with worry. "Nothing will go wrong."

Her cell phone began to ring in her pocket, and she couldn't help but thank every deity she could think of for that phone call. She quickly pulled her phone out of her pocket. "Hello?" she asked, answering without checking the number.

"Maria, it's me," she heard her husband's voice say. There was distress and pain in his voice. "Are you alone? I need to talk to you about something important."

"I can be alone," she answered before walking to their room and locking the door. "What's wrong, Schatz? Did something bad happen?"

"There is no easy way to say this," Ludwig sighed. He took a deep breath, which worried Maria. "Do you remember my father's other woman?"

"Why bring that up right now?" she asked, voice panicked. "What does that have to do with anything at all?"

"Just listen to me," he insisted. "My father was brought down to the police station because his semen was found inside Elizaveta when she died." His voice choked as he softly said, "Elizaveta was my father's other woman…"

Maria brought her hand up to her mouth as she gasped. "What? Are you kidding me? That's impossible! How do you know for sure?"

"He owned up to it," Ludwig sighed. "I don't even know what to think, Maria. We can't tell Monica. We just can't. She won't be able to handle it."

His wife nodded to herself. "Yes, it would be best to make sure Monica never finds out unless if Aldrich tells her himself…." Her hand combed through her hair as she sighed out. "Oh, Ludwig, I can't believe you had to find this out, and in such a way…." Maria's heart ached for her husband. "I'm so sorry, mein liebe."

"I just can't wait to come home," he groaned. "Coming home to you will be wonderful."

"I'll make sure the house is clean and quiet for you," Maria assured.

"That would be much appreciated," her husband responded. "I need to get back to work now. Ich liebe dich."

"I love you too," she softly said before making a kissing noise into the receiver of the phone. She waited until she heard him make the noise back before hanging up and sighing. Her head was nearly spinning. Maria went to open the door to her room and jumped and screamed when she found her son in the hallway. "Gilbert!"

"What did Dad find out?" he asked, leaning against the doorframe and blocking his mother from leaving her bedroom. He wanted answers and wouldn't stop until he got them. "What can't Monica know?"

"Gilbert Beilschmidt, that is none of your business," Maria told him, knowing what game he was playing. "Now please let me out of my bedroom."

"Why can't I know?"

"Because you suck at keeping secrets, my boy," she answered, pinching Gilbert's cheek. "You don't need to know what's going on."

"I'll find out some way or another," Gilbert scoffed at her, stepping aside.

"Well until you do, you'll never hear a word of it from me." Maria walked out and let go of her son's cheek. "Now go and clean your room. Your father is coming home soon and I promised him a clean and quiet house."

Gilbert groaned and did what he was told to do. If his mother wasn't going to tell him what was going on, he would find out another way. And if it all came down to it, he might even go to the source himself.

.

Monica sat at a table in Feliciano's restaurant. She had gone to work with him, unable to think of anything else to do. She didn't want to be alone that day, and she couldn't bring herself to be around her family. Her heart raced every time a customer came to tell her how sorry they were about her loss. Every time that happened, she did her best to ignore the tears in her eyes.

Whenever the restaurant settled down for a little bit, Feliciano would walk over to Monica and sit with her, holding her hands while she cried. Even Lovino would come over and help comfort her a little bit by stroking her hair and muttering semi-nice things to her. They were both worried sick about her and didn't know what to do.

Feliciano went to the kitchen and called Maria. "Buongiorno, bella!" he greeted when she answered the phone. "I have a question about Monica."

"Oh, God, please tell me she's with you!" Maria pleaded over the phone. "I've been so worried about her! She's not answering her phone!"

"I assure you, everything's okay," Feliciano told her, peeking out of the kitchen at the silent Monica in the corner booth. "She's with me, and has been since last night. She knows what happened with Elizaveta. I was wondering how she grieves."

Maria breathed a sigh of relief before tearfully answering. "She doesn't deal very well. Usually, she just closes up and bottles it all in. Please don't let her be all alone, and don't take her to places where there are a lot of people."

Seeing that he had obviously messed up so far, Feliciano sighed. "I've got it," he answered. "Thank you so much, Mrs. Beilschmidt." After a few more moments, he hung up and walked over to his girlfriend. "Monica, let's get out of here."

"But you're working," she softly said, looking up at him with watery, bloodshot eyes.

"I own the place," he answered. "I make my own hours. Let's go."

"Are you sure?" she asked, frowning. "I don't want Lovino getting mad at you."

"He's not going to," Feliciano told her. He offered Monica his hand. "Now let's ditch this place. You obviously don't want to be here."

"What would I do without you?" Monica whispered to him, taking his hand and rising to her feet. "You are just so good to me." She kissed him softly on the cheek before walking out with him. "Let's just go back to your place."

.

Matthew Williams sat back on the couch with his wife to watch a movie, but right before it started, the phone rang. He sighed and stood up. "Just one moment," he told Irunya before pulling it out of his pocket to answer it. "This is Matt."

"Mom's back in the hospital," Alfred simply said on the other end.

The older brother felt his heart drop in his chest. That wasn't good. What was going to happen to Alfred? He could feel the panic rising in him, but chose to stay calm.

"Do you need me to come and get you?" Matthew asked, already knowing the answer. He stood up and began to slip his shoes on. "We can get your car tomorrow. I know you rode in the ambulance with her."

Alfred's voice betrayed him as he tearfully replied, "Could you?"

Matthew's heart ached for his younger brother as he picked up his keys off the coffee table. "I'm on my way, Al. Just keep an eye out for me, okay?"

"Okay," the younger brother softly replied before hanging up.

"What's going on?" Irunya asked, standing up. "Who was that? Where are you going at this time of night?"

Her husband took a deep breath. "My mother is back in the hospital, so I have to get my brother. He's going to be staying here for a little while again."

Irunya simply nodded. "Oh, poor Alfie…" She walked into the kitchen. "I'm going to bake some cookies for him while you're out."

Matthew nodded and left their apartment. The whole drive to the hospital, he couldn't stop thinking of how tearful Alfred sounded on the phone. Did that mean it was really bad this time? Was their mother going to die this time? No, Matthew, he thought to himself. You can't think like that right now. Just go and pick up Al.

Alfred was waiting under an awning outside of the hospital as it had begun to rain, making him look even more pitiful than he already was. He quickly made his way to Matthew's car and got in, not even uttering one word to his brother. The truth was that the teenager couldn't trust himself to speak without falling apart.

Matthew watched his brother try to regain composure as they sat there together. He didn't move the car or anything, leaving it idling. No cars came up behind them as they just sat there in silence together before the elder brother finally broke it. "How is she?" he softly asked.

"She's going to die," Alfred softly said, not bothering to look up. "Mom wouldn't wake up, so I called the ambulance. She flatlined twice on the way to the hospital. I know she's only hanging on for me." He sniffled. "I don't want her to, though. Not if she's going to be miserable."

"Al," Matthew softly said, pulling his brother into a hug. He smiled to himself as he felt Alfred hug him back instead of resisting. "Maybe you should tell her that tomorrow. I know it'll be hard, but I can be there with you when you do."

Alfred slowly nodded. "Yeah, sure. Just, please, get me out of here. I hate hospitals."

"Right away," Matthew said as he put his foot on the gas and drove off with his brother. His mind was preoccupied with thoughts of what would happen when this side of Alfred wore off and he became angry again, but for now, he just wanted to make his brother feel comfortable.


	20. Chapter 20

Alfred Jones woke the next morning feeling groggy, having cried himself to sleep the night before. He didn't even partake in any of Irunya's cookies. He just went straight to the guest bedroom and cried it all out. All he wanted was to be alone, but he knew that Matthew was going to make him go to school that day.

What he dreaded most was what was to come after school. After school, he was going to go and see his mother in the hospital. Once he was there, he was going to tell her not to hang on just for him. He was dreading it. He wasn't ready to be orphaned at seventeen.

Technically, he still had his dad, but his dad was only around when he wanted to be, or whenever Alfred had a football game. It wasn't a healthy situation, and Alfred knew it. That was why his best bet was the stay with Matthew until school was out, no matter how badly he didn't want to. There were going to be a lot of arguments between the brothers, that was for sure.

There was a knock at Alfred's door that stirred him from his thoughts as Irunya's soft voice came in through the other side. "Alfie, it's me, Irunya," she chirped. "It's about ten in the morning. Matthew and I decided it was best to let you sleep in after the night you had last night. I know you may still be tired, but I have to be to work at eleven, so I was wondering if I could take you to school when I go to work."

"Yeah, that's fine," Alfred groaned, sitting up and rubbing at his eyes. He wasn't expecting them to let him sleep in like that. Then again, the night before was a pretty bad night. He was grateful to them for being so considerate, making a mental note to thank them later. "I'll be ready in about fifteen."

"That's perfect," Irunya said. The smile that was obviously on her face was evident in her voice as well, leaving Alfred wondering what she was so happy about.

.

Irunya was practically beaming with joy as she walked into the bathroom to check on the pregnancy test she had taken that morning. She was almost certain that she was pregnant this time, and she couldn't wait to see the results of the test.

After three years of trying, maybe this time she and Matthew would finally get lucky and have their first child together. That would be so wonderful! It was all she could hope for! If she was pregnant, it would be a dream come true!

Her eyes went to the pregnancy test on the counter, and tear instantly filled them. It was marked positive! She couldn't wait to tell Matthew! Her heart filled with joy as she fell to her knees, sobbing. Irunya could barely contain her joy as she cried out in pure happiness.

Heavy footfalls resounded throughout the apartment until they stopped outside the bathroom door. "Is everything okay in there?" Alfred asked her, tapping on the door with his fingertips.

Irunya sniffled a little and wiped her tears away. "Everything is fine, Alfie," she quickly blubbered back to him. "Everything is perfectly fine!" She began laughing out of sheer joy and opened the door to the bathroom. "Everything is wonderful!" Before she could stop herself, she jumped onto her brother-in-law and squeezed him tightly. "I'm so happy!"

"Well I'm glad that there's one of us," Alfred sighed. "What's got you so happy?"

"It's a secret," Irunya giggled. "I'll tell you later tonight!" She was nearly bubbling with joy as she let go of Alfred and spun around in circles like a child. "It might even brighten you up as well!"

"That's quite the long shot," Alfred said. "And if there's nothing else to be said here, I'm going to go and get ready for school." He quickly turned and fled back to the guest bedroom.

Irunya wasn't about to let Alfred's bad mood spoil her happiness. She continued dancing around the apartment and laughing to herself until it was time to take the boy to school. After all, she was finally going to be a mother, the one thing she always dreamed of being.

.

Once at school, Alfred felt lost. He had no motivation to do anything. All he wanted was to talk to his mother and get things said and over with. It wasn't fair that his mother was holding on, enduring large amounts of pain, for him. To him, it didn't seem right. His mother should not have to suffer just because of him. He needed to tell her not to hold on for him. He just couldn't let her do that anymore.

Halfway through English Literature, a hand clapped down on Alfred's shoulder, making him jump. Arthur Kirkland bent down low and softly said, "Is there something on your mind, Alfred? You're not paying attention at all today."

Alfred sighed. "I'm sorry, Mr. K," he replied. "My mom is back in the hospital. And I think it's her last time, if you know what I mean." He held his head in his hands. "I can't go talk to my brother about it, I really can't. He'll get all emotional on me, and I just can't do it." The boy shook his head, trying not to let his emotions get to him. "I'm sorry, Mr. Kirkland," he choked out.

Arthur gave the boy a sympathetic look. "Let me make a couple phone calls and we can go talk somewhere, okay?" he said. He walked over to his desk and called his wife to come and take his place so he could speak to a grief-stricken student and was more than relieved when she agreed to come do so. He met her at the door with Alfred, and even she saw what a mess the boy was.

"Alfred, dear, is everything okay?" she kindly asked him.

"I've got this, love," Arthur told her, pecking her cheek as he walked past her out of the room. "He'll be okay with time."

Alice nodded and went in to teach Arthur's class, wondering what was wrong with Alfred. She knew the boy to be happy-go-lucky, not gloomy and dreadful. Something was terribly wrong with the boy, and she hoped that Arthur would tell her later that night.

Arthur led Alfred to the office of the library, snapping the curtains shut so no students could peek in and see Alfred cry. He sat down on a chair across from Alfred as the boy's tears finally began to fall. "I am so sorry to hear about your mum," he softly said to his student. "It must be awful to be going through that."

"It is," Alfred sniffled. "And she's going through all of this because of me. Why can't she see that I don't want that for her?" He clenched his hands tightly in his lap. "This is bad, Mr. K. It's really bad. I don't want her to suffer anymore, just for me."

"I understand your struggle, Alfred, but have you ever thought about what she may want?" Arthur asked the troubled teen. "Maybe she wants to see you graduate from school, Alfred. That may be what she's holding on for." He was quiet for a few moments. "What are you thinking right now, Al?"

"It's so hard to talk about my mom," the student answered, looking up at his teacher. "I don't know what I'm going to do once she's gone, Mr. K. I'm going to be so lost without her." He held his head in his hands and shook it in disbelief.

"I lost my mum when I was around your age as well," Arthur answered. "It was difficult, and I still miss her terribly, but I felt the same as you do. I didn't want her to hold on just because of me."

"What happened to her?" Alfred asked.

"Same as your mum," the teacher replied. "Heart failure. The last time she went in, she signed a DNR after I forced her to. I needed to let her know that I would be okay without her."

"And were you?"

"It took awhile, but I think I finally am," Arthur answered with a nod. "After all, I'm only 25. It's been almost eight years."

Alfred was silent for a few moments before softly saying, "Thank you, Mr. K. Talking with you really helped."

"I'm always here for you, Alfred."

.

That afternoon, after school, Alfred entered his mother's hospital room with heavy hearts. He knew what he wanted to say to her, but he had no idea how. Honestly, how did a boy tell his mother to stop fighting for her life? He just didn't want her to hurt anymore, hoping that it didn't make him selfish for wanting that.

Amelia Jones looked so small in her bed, surrounded by beeping machines and wires. She smiled tiredly as her son walked into the room. Her heart rate went up on the monitors when she locked eyes with Alfred. "What's wrong, sweetie?" she asked him. She reached a hand out to him and frowned.

"There's something I want to talk to you about," Alfred softly said. He sat down in the chair next to her bed where he had sat the night before. "And it's going to be pretty difficult."

"What is it, Alfie?" she asked, running her fingers through his hair and smiling at him. "You know you can talk to me about anything."

"I know, but…." Alfred let his voice trail off. "This is something different." He took a deep breath. "Mom, I know you've been struggling a lot lately, and I want you to know that…." His voice trailed off again. He knew he had to say it, but he couldn't find the strength to. "It's okay to let go," he finally choked out. "I'm going to be okay with Matthew. I just don't want to see you hurting anymore…."

Amelia's eyes filled with tears. "Oh, Alfie," she softly said, reaching for her son's hands. "I understand what you're saying, but it's not that simple."

"And why isn't it?" Alfred asked her. "Mom, you're in so much pain. You don't need to keep fighting it just for me. I know you're hurting, and I know you're only getting weaker and weaker. Soon it'll be me taking care of you, and I know you don't want that."

"You're right," she softly said. "All I wanted was for you and Mattie to be happy." She looked down into her lap. "I guess I've been selfish, haven't I?"

"No, Mom." He squeezed her hands gently. "We were the selfish ones. We took you for granted, thinking you would always be around. Matthew and I didn't realize how bad it was getting until the last time this all happened."

"Alfie, I know you're only thinking of me with this, but it's my decision to make," Amelia softly told him. "No one else can make this decision for me." She frowned and reached up, cupping his cheek in her hand as tears spilled down his face. "All I ever wanted was for you and Mattie to be happy and healthy. How will I ever be able to see that if I pass away?"

"But Mom, we are happy and healthy," Alfred told her. "And we love you so much. But maybe it's time."

Amelia frowned. "Let's not talk about this anymore, sweetie. You're upsetting me."

Alfred left it at that and talked with his mother about other things instead. After all, if she was going to let go, he didn't want her to be upset when she finally did.

.

That night, Alfred decided to walk back to Matthew's apartment from the hospital. It was about ten blocks, so it wasn't like it was that far away. He began to pick up his pace, though, when he sensed someone following him. He turned around when he was about three blocks from Matthew's to see someone following a block behind him.

Alfred began to jog, looking back occasionally to see that the person was still behind him and keeping pace. What did they want? He decided to turn into the alleyway to try to lose the person, but he tripped over a crack in the asphalt and fell.

"So you finally stopped," a familiar voice growled at him. "You idiot."

Alfred looked up to see Ivan and almost breathed a sigh of relief, but there was something different about him that the blond couldn't quite place. "Ivan?" he asked. "What are you doing here? Why are you following me?"

"You talk too much, you know that?" Ivan asked him, smiling like a maniac. His grin stretched almost from ear to ear. "Let's make you a little more quiet, hmm?"

"Hey, what are you-"

With just a swift, deep slice across his neck, that was the end of Alfred F. Jones.


	21. Chapter 21

Matthew and Irunya sat together in the living room in silence as they heard police cars outside. They both felt extremely unnerved by the possibility that it could be Alfred, though Irunya kept saying that there was no way it could be because Alfred was at the hospital and would call for a ride when he was done. Even so, Matthew wasn't convinced.

Just before Matthew was about to go out and see for himself, there was a knock on the door. Everything went still as there was a faint buzzing in Matthew's ears as he went to answer it, hoping to God that it wasn't the police.

His heart dropped in his chest when he opened his door to find Ludwig Beilschmidt without Alfred. Matthew felt his glasses fogging up as his eyes filled with tears. "No," he softly said. "Oh, God. Please no," he begged.

"I'm so sorry," Ludwig said to the young counselor. "There is no easy way to say this at all, but your brother is dead. He was found on…"

Matthew didn't hear the rest of what Ludwig was saying. All that his mind could hear was "your brother is dead" over and over and over. His heart was aching and his brain was screaming at him as he shook his head. "Please, no," he begged. "Please say you're lying! You're lying!" He then raised his voice to a shout. "You're fucking lying to me!"

The people in the surrounding apartments were opening their doors and looking out at the scene of Matthew dropping to his knees before the Chief of Police, holding his head and screaming. No one knew what to say to comfort the usually-quiet young man.

Irunya walked into the doorway and knelt next to Matthew, placing a gentle hand on her husband's shoulder. "Please," she softly said to Ludwig. "Please tell me it's not true…"

"I'm afraid I can't do that, Mrs. Williams," Ludwig answered, struggling to speak past the lump in his throat. "Alfred Franklin Jones is dead." He watched as she began sobbing uncontrollably and leaned heavily against the doorframe. "If you would like, I can return at a later time." He took their body-wracking sobs as his cue to leave.

.

Ivan woke up the next morning, ready for school. He decided to ignore the dream about killing Alfred, knowing what he was probably going to face at school due to it. If Alfred Jones was dead, the school would be just as messed up as the day Chun-Yan died, only this time with no Mr. Williams there to help.

He honestly considered faking sick, but how would he ever be able to explain it to his mom how he knew. She would never believe him if he said it was just a feeling. He had to go to school.

With a grudging heart, he loaded his homework into his backpack and got dressed into his school uniform. It was going to suck, he could just tell that much already. School without Alfred Jones was going to be hell, and he didn't know how he should take it. After all, they had only just become friends.

Shrugging it off, Ivan left his bedroom and went to catch the bus. He decided not to worry too much about the future and just deal with it when it reared its ugly head.

.

Irunya woke up on the living room floor in Matthew's embrace. There were other times when she had woken up like this and smiled happily and kissed him awake. This was not one of those times. Her mind went to the night before and the hellish nightmare that it truly was. Her brain refused to process the fact that Alfred was dead.

After Matthew had gone with Chief Beilschmidt to identify the body as Alfred's, he had come home and hugged Irunya, crying, until he fell asleep, leading to how she woke up. Everything about it was painful, including the soreness from sleeping on the hardwood floor. Why did fate have to be so cruel?

Matthew stirred in his sleep as his eyes fluttered open. He looked at Irunya, a little dazed, about to ask what they were doing on the floor when it all hit him again. His lips formed into a frown as he reached for his cell phone. "I need to call in to work," he muttered, rubbing the stubble on his jaw. His voice was hoarse from all of the screaming and shouting he had down the night before. "Rune, could you hand me my phone, please?" he softly asked, pointing to the coffee table on the other side of her.

Irunya reached for the phone and handed it over. "I'm so sorry, Matthew," she softly whispered, kissing his cheek as she handed over the phone. Her entire body went numb as he refused to say a word, yet she knew what he was doing. He was trying to be strong for her, at least until his phone call was over.

Once Matthew was on the phone, it was as if he were a completely different person. He couldn't even believe how professional and together he sounded. It was a miracle to him. Luckily, the schoolboard had already heard about what had happened, wished him well, and gave him a week and a half off from work.

Matthew hung up the phone feeling slightly better. He felt he needed to get out of the house, so he started putting his shoes on as he decided on a walk.

"Where are you going?" Irunya asked her husband, reaching out toward him. She was confused. Wasn't he just moping? Wouldn't the last place he would want to go be outside since that was where Alfred died?

"I'm going for a walk," Matthew simply answered. "Don't wait up." And with that, he was out that door.

Irunya sighed and patted her lower abdomen. "Looks like it's just you and me," she softly said to it. "What a lonely life we lead."

.

Monica Beilschmidt was out on a walk in the park with her two dogs when she ran into a distraught Matthew. Not knowing what else to do, she quickly called over to him. "Matt!" she called out. "Matt, over here!"

Matthew looked up and across the road to where she was. He saw her waving with a smile on her face and felt an urge to pet her dogs. After all, dogs were his favorite animals besides polar bears. His feet grudgingly carried him over to her as he stared down at the grass beneath their feet. "Today is not a good day," he softly said.

"I know," Monica softly said. "And I'm sorry to hear about what happened." She took a deep breath. "If someone were to go after Gilbert, I don't know what I would do…" She bent down and tied the leashes of the dogs to a nearby picnic table and then walked back to Matthew. "I'm here if you need me."

Matthew blinked his eyes in surprise. It were almost as if he were seeing Monica for the first time in his life. "Thank you," he said, the words stumbling out of his mouth. "I mean it. There are a lot of things that are wrong with the world we live in, but I'm glad that some kindness can be hed through you."

"That sounds so poetic," Monica commented with a smile. Something in her chest began to flutter as she looked at the highly depressed man before her. She didn't know what it was, but she knew she hadn't felt it while looking at Matthew since her high school days.

The young man looked over at the picnic table. "Just two dogs today?" he asked, cocking his head to the side. "You usually have three."

"We had to put Blackie down a couple weeks ago," she softly answered, a frown forming on her face. "Life was getting to be just too much for him, you know? So now it's just Berlitz and Aster."

Matthew surprised even himself with what he did next. He pulled Monica into a comforting hug and sighed. "It's hard to lose what you've had since childhood, isn't it? I'm so sorry!" Tears ran down his cheeks as he could hear her softly crying, too. And by that point, he knew it wasn't about the dog anymore.

.

Arthur got a phone call as he was preparing to head out the door to school. It was from the school, and he really didn't know what to expect when he answered it. "This is Arthur speaking," he said, pressing the answer button.

"Arthur, we're going to need you to fill in for Matthew today as guidance counselor," Aldrich Beilschmidt's voice said over the phone. "There has been a death in Matthew's family, and we'll be in desperate need of a guidance counselor today for another student of ours has passed away."

The Englishman's blood ran cold. A death in Matthew's family. A student dead. No! "Which student?" he slowly asked.

"Alfred Jones was found dead in an alleyway near his brother's home last night," Aldrich slowly answered. "I know he was your prized pupil, so it will be hard for you, but I need you to do this for me."

Arthur was shaking his head in disbelief. This was a nightmare. There was no way that could be true! Alfred couldn't be dead! There was no way! "I'll do it," he said, speaking around the lump in his throat.

His heart was shattering in his chest. Why did fate have to be so cruel? The two of them had just recently started getting physical with each other, and now it was all gone. Arthur knew he would never be able to love again.

Alice placed a hand on Arthur's shoulder after he hung up. "Is something wrong, my love?" she softly asked.

Arthur shook his head, but his tear-filled eyes gave him away. He slowly nodded. "Alfred Jones was found dead last night near Matthew's home."

His wife's eyes widened in disbelief. "No!" she cried out. "Not Alfred! He was such a good kid!" She frowned in sympathy. "I know just how close you two were. You were a wonderful mentor to him. That boy trusted you." Alice hugged Arthur tightly. "I'm so sorry, my darling!"

He cried onto his wife's shoulder. "I have to fill in for Matthew today," he slowly said. "All day, all I'm going to hear about is how Alfred is dead. How can I do that?"

Alice frowned. "May God have mercy on you today…"


	22. Chapter 22

Arthur sat in Matthew's office all day, trying to get his mind off of the fact that Alfred was dead. But it didn't help that every student who came in to talk to him reminded him of just that. Every student needed to process Alfred's death. No wonder Matthew wasn't coming in for a week. He even had to turn down all of the pictures featuring Alfred on Matthew's desk. Nothing was helping him at all. He would even cry with some of the students. Honestly, Arthur was about to lose his mind by the time the final bell rang.

He had heard once that writing letters to the dead was a good way to get closure. It didn't sound like that bad of an idea. Before he knew it, he had written three pages of a mushy, gushy love letter. Starting with the words "Dearest Alfred" and ending with "Love Always, Arthur", he was satisfied. He had written of their love and the times they had shared, including moments he'd wished they had shared. It made it slightly less painful. Only slightly.

His heart still felt as if something were missing as he shoved the letter into his bag and locked up the office. But of course something was missing. Alfred was dead. Arthur would never see him again. That was enough to strike depression into Arthur's heart as he got into his car to leave. He partially wished that the murderer would come for him too. That way he could be with Alfred again. But he couldn't just abandon Alfred and their boys like that.

Arthur felt torn as he drove home. He wished Alfred hadn't died. He wished there was no murderer. Most of all, he wished he hadn't fallen in love with his student. Then maybe it wouldn't hurt so bad to know he was dead. Maybe he would be able to cope better. But no matter what he wished for, he knew it would never come true.

.

"How was your day, love?" Alice asked as he walked through the door. She was holding a clingy, crying Dylan, Seamus clinging to her legs. "I hope it wasn't too rough on you." She reached down and patted Seamus's head as the young boy shied away from her. "Allistor got sick, so I had to come home early."

Arthur absently nodded. "Poor boy," he softly said.

"Is something bothering you, Arthur?" she asked.

"You try having the entire student body cry to you about Alfred Jones all day," Arthur simply stated. "You wouldn't feel so hot either, love." He dropped his work bag to the floor and sat on the couch. "It was a horrid day, Alice."

"Would you like me to get you some gin, love?" Alice asked. "You're looking like you need some."

Arthur looked up at her. "That would be lovely," he answered.

She handed the baby over to him. "I'll be right back." Then she disappeared in the direction of the kitchen.

The Englishman looked down at his sniffling son. "Come now, don't cry, Dylan," he encouraged. "I'm certain you had a better day than I did." Arthur leaned back and sighed. This had to be the second worst day of his life; the first being the day of his mother's funeral. "Today has been absolutely horrid for Daddy." His arms wrapped around the small boy in his lap as he pulled him closer. "Stay indoors and everything will be okay," he whispered.

"What are you talking to our son about?" his wife asked, appearing in the doorway. She sat down next to Arthur and handed him his glass of gin. "Are you sure you're alright, love? Do you need to talk about your day? I'm here for you, darling. I'm certain you know that, though." Alice folded her hands in her lap and looked down at them. She was uncomfortable with her husband's silence. "Please say something, Arthur."

"What do you want me to say?" he asked, looking over at her. He took a gulp of his gin. "Today was absolutely awful, Alice. Do you really expect me to relive it by talking about it?" He took another gulp. "No, I don't want to talk about it."

Alice knew better than to pry when he was in a mood like this one. There was no point in picking a fight in front of their children if she wouldn't even get the information she wanted anyway. She sighed. "Well I'll be in the office if you need me," she told him, taking Dylan and walking away.

And now Arthur was alone with his thoughts. What a dangerous, yet exciting, thing. He began forming plans to catch the murderer between gulps of gin. Surely there had to be a way to avenge Alfred. There had to be.

.

After Arthur had gone to bed, Alice decided to clean the living room. But when she moved his bag, three pieces of paper fell out. Surely Arthur wouldn't mind if she looked at them. After all, they were married. If he couldn't trust her, then who could he trust?

Yet as her eyes scanned the pages, her face fell. It was a love letter to Alfred! What did this mean?! She began to panic. Was Arthur having an affair with Alfred?! This was bad! This was really bad!

Her heart raced as she read further. She felt sick. This wasn't good at all. Should she report it? What would Arthur do? Alice felt weak in her knees as she finished reading the letter. Her own husband had never once written her a letter so romantic, yet he'd write one for a dead student of his? Nothing was adding up. What the hell was going on? Should she ask Arthur about it? No, he'd just get mad. What should she do?

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she fell to her knees. Did Arthur not love her anymore? That had to be it! What could she do now?

.

Arthur's phone went off with its usual ringtone the next morning. He thought nothing of it as he answered it, knowing that it was Aldrich Beilschmidt calling him. "Hullo?" he asked, rubbing his hand over his jawline to make sure that he had shaved off every last bit of stubble on his face. "Arthur speaking."

"I want to see you in my office the moment you get here," Aldrich's voice boomed over to him. "There is something serious that we need to talk about."

"Sure thing," Arthur answered, running his comb through his hair. "I will be there in about twenty minutes. Is that alright?"

"It's perfectly fine," his boss grumbled over the phone. "Just make sure you're here no later than that. I need to speak with you on a matter that is of the utmost importance."

"Utmost importance, you say?" Arthur asked. "Right-o, I'll be there as soon as I can be." He then hung up and finished preparing for work, knowing full well that Alice had already gone to take the boys to school and daycare. He hummed a little to himself as he picked up his work bag, completely forgetting the letter he had written just the day before.

.

When Arthur entered Aldrich's office, he wasn't expecting it to be as silent as it was. Usually, Aldrich had some kind of elevator music of sorts playing in his office so that it wouldn't be as hauntingly quiet, but today he didn't. That was the first thing that made him nervous. The second thing that made him nervous was that there were three sheets of paper on his desk that looked like his handwriting on them. Though he had forgotten about the letter on the way there, he instantly knew what it was while standing there. And the last thing that had him unnerved was Matthew standing in the corner, a dark look of betrayal on his face.

"Arthur, it comes to my attention that you are not the honest man that I thought you were," Aldrich stated, glancing over at Matthew. "Do you know why Matthew is here, or why you're here?"

The Englishman gulped but held his ground. "I don't," he firmly answered.

"Maybe this will refresh your memory," his boss answered before picking up the paper. He watched Arthur squirm a little like a worm on a hook before reading aloud from the love letter. "'If you hadn't died, I would have left Alice for you. You know this, Alfred.'" Aldrich looked up from the letter. "Need I go on, Arthur?"

"Is there proof that I wrote that?" he stiffly asked.

"Well, it is in your handwriting, Arthur. And on the corner of the papers, it says 'From the Desk of Matthew Williams', which is exactly where you were stationed all day yesterday," Aldrich said. "You have no defense, and will be proven guilty. I hated having to call Matthew in here today to discuss it with him, but I had no other choice. Even he is disgusted with what has been going on between you and Alfred."

"Matthew? Surely you don't believe this rubbish, do you?" Arthur asked.

Matthew scoffed. "How can I not? I am utterly sickened by all of this. Not because you like men or anything like that, because I'm totally cool with all that. It's just that the man you were in love with was my LITTLE BROTHER!" His voice raised to a shout with the final two words and he leaned heavily against the wall, body wracking with sobs. If there was anything Matthew hated more than anything in the world, it was conflict, and here he was, right in the middle of the biggest conflict of his life. His best friend had been dating his little brother behind everyone's backs. How was he supposed to process this?

Arthur took a step back when Matthew finished speaking. He was terrified, having never seen Matthew so angry and depressed in his entire life. Though he knew he had gotten caught, he had no other choice than to confess to it. "Yes," he softly said. "I was in love with Alfred Jones."

"The statements in here that you made about the relationship between the two of you," Aldrich said, pointing to the letter, "are they true?"

The Englishman feebly nodded. "Yes, sir. They are." He cringed as Matthew yelped with obvious emotional pain. Arthur couldn't help but feel horrible for what was going on, but he knew that he had to tell the truth.

"From today on out, you no longer work at this school," Aldrich told Arthur. "You are terminated. We will find someone else to take your place. You may collect your things here and leave before classes start today. You are dismissed, Mr. Kirkland."

Arthur felt as if his world were crashing down around him. His feet felt like lead as he stumbled out of Aldrich's office. He could hear Matthew sobbing as he left, and he knew that they were no longer friends, which killed him. Everything was falling apart now, all because he was careless about three sheets of paper…

.

Ivan walked into Arthur's classroom just as Arthur was finishing clearing out his desk. "Mr. Kirkland?" he slowly asked. "What's going on?"

Arthur jumped. "Ivan!" he exclaimed. "What are you doing in here? Classes don't start for another half hour!"

"I wanted to be early today," the boy answered with a shrug. "What's with the box?"

"I got fired this morning," the teacher answered glumly, frowning to himself.

"Fired? But why?" Ivan asked, eyes wide.

Arthur took a deep breath, wondering what reason he should give. He figured the truth would come out sooner or later, so he decided to just say it. "I was having an affair with a student."

"Alfred Jones," Ivan concluded. "You two were practically inseparable. His death must've been your breaking point."

"You're pretty smart, Ivan," the former teacher sighed. He picked up his box. "Well, I'd best get going. Aldrich Beilschmidt doesn't want me in here when students are arriving…."

"Best of luck to you, Mr. Kirkland," Ivan told him, casting him a hopeful smile. "I hope fortune comes your way, for even though you did that, you are a good man."

Arthur blinked in surprise. "Thank you, Ivan," he said. "Take care." And with that, he disappeared down the hallway with only one thing on his mind. How did that letter make it to Aldrich when he was certain it was at home?


	23. Chapter 23

By the time Arthur arrived at home, he was highly cantankerous. He slammed the door of his car so hard that the window nearly shattered but instead chose to just rattle in place for a bit. Arthur didn't have time to care, though. On the way home, he had figured out the only way that letter could have gotten to Aldrich. Only one name came to his mind. Alice.

Arthur threw open the door to the house and stormed in. Knowing that Alice had the afternoon off, he just had to wait for her to get home. At first he attempted sitting on the couch to calm down, but that just didn't do, so he went about cleaning the house, including the kids' rooms. He didn't stop until the whole house was spotless.

Alice arrived home a little before eleven-thirty and gasped when she saw how clean the house was. She knew that Arthur only cleaned when he was angry, and now she saw how truly angry he was. After saying a silent prayer for her wellbeing, she went to look for him.

The former teacher was in the basement, dusting, when he heard his wife's footsteps on the floor above him. He gritted his teeth and forcefully slammed the duster down on the coffee table before going to meet her at the top of the stairs.

As soon as Alice saw the hatred in his eyes, she knew that he knew it was her. She gulped and began backing into the kitchen so they were away from the staircase. "Good afternoon, love," she greeted, voice choked out of fright. "I see you've been cleaning."

Arthur stepped into the kitchen as well and shoved Alice down into one of the chairs around the table, keeping his hands on her shoulders so she couldn't get up. "I have," he answered, teeth clenched. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes so he didn't even have to look at her. "Why did you do this? What possessed you to ruin my career?"

"You had plans to leave me for him!" Alice interjected. "Who wouldn't have been angry?!"

"Angry enough to ruin my whole career?!" Arthur demanded, glaring down at her. "No school is ever going to hire me again! Are you satisfied with yourself, or do you want to ruin my life a little more over a dead teenager?! Just because I wrote my bloody thoughts on a piece of paper doesn't mean you have to go and show it to our boss! I meant it in a therapeutic way, and I was going to burn it in the fireplace, but no! You just had to go and give it to Aldrich Beilschmidt and get me fired! Now I'm going to be out of work until I can find another job, and who will support our family during that, Alice?!"

She was silent for about a minute before finally speaking up. "Are you expecting an apology from me? Because you're not going to get one. I did what I thought was right, and I am not sorry for it."

"Well your sense of justice is pretty fucked," Arthur snarled at her before letting go of her shoulders and storming off toward their bedroom.

Alice quickly jumped up and took off after him. "What are you doing?!" she asked, panicked. "Arthur, now is not the time to be rash!"

Arthur already had an open suitcase on the bed by the time she was in there. "Oh, so now you want to talk about rash decisions?!" he demanded as he went through their closet, piling clothes into the suitcase. He paused and cast an emerald glare in her direction. "Let's talk about your rash decision, Alice! You took that letter out of my briefcase, and gave it to Aldrich without at least confronting me first! Who's really being the rash one here?!"

"Why are you packing a bag?!" Alice shouted back. "Are you planning on leaving me over this?! Who's being rash now?!"

Arthur threw the suitcase off of the bed and stomped over to her. "What else is there for me to do?! You have single-handedly ruined my life in a matter of hours! Do you want to know why I fooled around with Alfred in the first place?! It's because it's not like we ever have sex anyway! The last time we did was two months after having Dylan! He's almost nine months old now!"

"Then why didn't you just fucking say something?!" she screamed in his face. "Do you think I like going that long without it either?! It's not my bloody fault that you're never home! And whenever you are, you're in a shit mood!"

The Englishman, overcome with rage, threw her down on their bed and crawled on over her. "Then let's do something about that, right here, right now!"

Alice's eyes were wide as saucers. "I-I can't! I have to go pick up Dylan from daycare! I have to-"

Her husband cut her off. "Let him wait a little bit longer! He's an infant, for God's sake! He has no concept of time, Alice!" There was a fire burning in his eyes. "Either we do this now, or never again!"

She then knew she had to make a choice. Her arms were around Arthur's neck in record time, pulling him down on top of her. "Then don't keep me waiting."

.

Three Weeks Later

Matthew and Monica had been secretly meeting up behind Feliciano and Irunya's backs ever since the day Matthew had his breakdown when he ran into Monica. They didn't really understand why they were being so secretive about meeting up with each other until the day those fateful words slipped out of Matthew's mouth.

"You know," he began as they sat in a local coffee shop, "I never exactly got over you after high school." He fiddled around with his latte for a moment before finally gaining the courage to look up at the woman across from him. "I kinda just got the feeling that I needed to move on because you were out of my league."

Monica was staring at him, wide-eyed. "Is that really true, Matt?" she asked in shock. She didn't really know what to think. Her biggest high school crush was admitting that he always and still had feelings for her. The true honesty was so overwhelming that she didn't know what to do.

When she saw him nod, confirming that he was telling the truth, she leaned across the table and kissed him before she could even stop herself. Though she knew he was married and that she was dating a wonderful man, she just couldn't stop herself. Ever since high school, she had been wanting to know what it would be like to kiss him. Now she knew. It was truly wonderful.

She quickly broke off the kiss when she realized what was going on. "Oh, my God! I'm so sorry, Matthew! I was completely out of line, and I-"

Matthew cupped her face in his hands and pressed his lips back to hers, silencing her. For nearly a decade, he had been wanting to kiss Monica Beilschmidt, and now that he finally had, he didn't want to let the chance pass by in a flash. He wanted to make it last as long as he could, not knowing if he would ever get another chance to kiss the woman of his dreams.

When he finally pulled away, he noticed that Monica looked dazed. He had never seen her with such a dreamy look in her eyes. She looked absolutely beautiful and starstruck. Her eyes were wider and bluer than they had ever looked before.

"Matthew, I…" Monica was quiet as she tried to collect her thoughts. "I don't know what to say. I've been waiting for that to happen for so long, but I'm terrified that it may be too late for us. I mean, you're married to Irunya and I'm with Feli…" She scratched at her head, trying to think of what to say after that. "I just…"

"I know," he softly answered. "Everything is so complicated now." Matthew sighed. "God, I wish I had said something back in high school."

"So do I," she replied. Monica took a deep breath and looked Matthew in the eye. "Why didn't you say something sooner? Why did you wait so long to kiss me? Maybe things could've been different."

"Yeah," he softly agreed. "Everything would have been different." He nodded and sighed. "I'm sorry, Monica. I let things get out of hand today, and I know I shouldn't have kissed you but…" His voice trailed off. "Dammit, Monica. How could I not?"

She cracked a small smile. "We just have to keep that on the down low, Matt. If Feli or Irunya were to hear of what we just did, all hell would break loose."

"That's for damn sure," Matthew agreed with a chuckle before they both went back to sipping on their lattes.

.

Irunya was sitting in hers and Matthew's bedroom, waiting for him to come home, when she heard her phone start ringing. She quickly reached for it, hoping it was her husband, but instead found an unknown local number. Usually, she didn't answer unknown numbers, but something intrigued her about it being a local number.

"Hello?" she asked after accepting the call. "This is Irunya Williams speaking."

"Please don't ask how I got your number," the voice on the other line quickly said. "My name is Feliciano Vargas. I own the deli downtown."

"How can I help you, Mr. Vargas?" she asked him, confused.

"It has come to my attention that your husband has been spending a lot of time with my girlfriend," Feliciano stated. "I don't know if you are aware of that, but he and Monica meet up on afternoons after school hours and get coffee."

Irunya felt her heart sink in her chest. Ever since she had met Monica at that football game and saw the way Matthew had looked at her, she had felt uneasy. "Could we possibly meet up somewhere and discuss this further?"

"Absolutely, Mrs. Williams," he answered. "Where would you like to meet?"

"Let's meet at the park by the river in about a half hour?" she suggested.

"That sounds great," Feliciano replied. "I will see you there."

After hanging up, Irunya realized that her vision was blurred with tears. Her mind was running wild. Was Matthew cheating on her with Monica? Did Feliciano know something she didn't? She mentally told herself to calm down. All of it would be sorted out in a half hour. No need to freak out just yet.

.

"So what should I do?" Irunya asked the young Italian as they walked along the riverside. "What if Matthew decides that Monica is who he truly wants to be with?"

"I'm not giving up Monica without a fight," Feliciano answered, gazing out over the water. "She is the light of my life, and I refuse to go back into darkness."

There was a dark chuckle behind them, causing them to both turn around and see a high school boy with pale hair and violet eyes. "You think you life is just darkness without you lover?" he taunted. "You don't know what it's like to live in real darkness." A demonic smirk crossed the boy's face. "But your loved ones will soon find out."

Before Feliciano could ask what he meant, the boy grabbed each of them by the throat with an impressive amount of strength, grip iron tight.

Before things started going hazy in her vision, Irunya remembered where she recognized that boy. He had sat with her and Matthew at the football game. "Ivan….Braginsky…." she gasped out, clawing at his hand. But it was no use. He was just too strong.

Feliciano was trying his best to fight off the boy, but to no avail. His head was starting to ache from lack of oxygen.

Both victims fell to their knees, agonized, which gave their attacker the advantage. The three of them were at the water's edge, close enough to touch. Irunya and Feliciano's eyes widened when they realized they were being tipped backwards toward the water. Their minds began to panic, but neither of them could do a thing about it.

"Rest well," the boy said as he stuck their heads under the water. Neither of his victims had much energy to fight back. He smiled as their bodies struggled for about a minute before they simply just stopped moving.

Ivan rose to his feet and pulled their heads out of the water. He pulled up their sleeves and carved "I AM ASLEEP" across their bare forearms with his boxcutter that he pulled out of his pocket.

Satisfied with his work, he headed home, leaving their bodies for someone else to find.


	24. Chapter 24

Monica's cell phone rang awhile after she got home. Expecting it to be one of Feliciano's trademark "Goodnight Calls", she quickly picked it up. Her eyes widened in surprise when she saw that it was her father. She remembered that he was currently at work and was wondering if he needed her to bring some food to the station or something.

"Hello?" she asked, putting her phone to her ear. "Dad?"

Ludwig's voice was strained on the other end. "Monica, what are you doing?"

"I just got home not too long ago." Monica shifted her position on the sofa in her room. "Daddy, is something wrong? You don't sound too great. Did something happen? Do you need me to bring you anything?" Her father didn't sound anything like his usual self, and it worried her and put her on edge.

"I need you to come down to the station as soon as you can." His response was curt and short. "You don't need to bring anything. I just need you to come down here."

Fear suddenly sprang up in Monica's heart as she jumped to her feet. "Daddy, what happened? What's going on?" As she spoke, she was already slipping on her jacket and shoes. "Why am I suddenly afraid?"

"Please hurry," Ludwig said before saying his goodbyes and hanging up.

Though she had no idea what was going on, Monica felt sick to her stomach as she got into her car and sped down to the station. Her heart pounded as she ran into the station, increasing in speed when she saw Ludwig waiting for her.

Ludwig Beilschmidt's face seemed to contort in pain as he looked at his daughter. He grabbed her and pulled her into a tight hug, confusing her even more. He had never been the type of man who openly gave hugs, ever. "Let's go to my office," he told her, leading the way to a room she had been to more times than she could count.

Once in there, Monica sat down on the chair in front of his desk. She was feeling more on edge with every passing moment. Her heart leaped into her throat when Ludwig sat in the chair next to hers instead of across from her. That was when she knew that she was going to receive bad news. This was his usual "Bad News Procedure".

Ludwig took a deep breath before speaking. "Monica, have you spoken with Matthew Williams recently?" he began.

Her heart skipped a beat. Matthew! Something happened to Matthew! She slowly nodded her head. "We went and got coffee tonight. I actually just got back."

He was choosing his words carefully before asking, "Do you know if he and his wife had been fighting recently? Was he angry with her at all or anything?"

Monica shook her head. "Not that I know of. Did something happen to her?"

Ludwig took another deep breath. "Monica, do you know if Matthew Williams harbored any feelings for you?" The question came out slowly, but that made the impact more powerful.

The blonde's eyes widened. "Dad, what's going on?" she slowly asked. "What happened to Matthew? Why would him having feelings for me have anything to do with anything?"

"So he does have feelings for you?"

Monica folded her hands in her lap and looked down at them. "Yes," she answered, voice barely above a whisper. "He actually told me that tonight." Knowing she could never get away with lying to her father, she continued. "I kissed him. And he...he kissed me as well." Her eyes filled with tears. "What is going on, Dad? Why does any of this matter?"

"Matthew Williams is being questioned currently," Ludwig answered. "He is being suspected of murder. I need to know how late you were with him tonight."

Her world began crumbling in her mind. Murder? Matthew murdering anyone? "I was with him until about a half hour ago. He dropped me off at our house around 8:35. But there's no way Matthew could kill anyone. I don't believe that he would. Not after what happened to Alfred." There was only one question on her mind. "Who was murdered?"

Ludwig made a choking noise. "It was a double homicide. One of the victims was Irunya Williams. The other was…" His voice trailed off. This was far more difficult to say than he would have ever imagined. "The other was Feliciano Vargas."

Monica's mind went numb. If her father had said anything else after that, there was no way that she would have heard it. Feliciano was dead? There was no way! She had just seen him a few hours ago! He couldn't be dead! And they thought Matthew had killed both Feliciano and his own wife?! Matthew would never do something like that, especially after his own brother had been murdered!

"Please say something," Ludwig pleaded to his daughter. "Cry! Scream! Anything! Please don't shut yourself down like that." He pulled his daughter into a hug, knowing that she was in too much shock and pain to even react to something so horrifying. "Monica, please!"

Her father's words were enough to shatter the dam in her eyes as her tears cascaded down her cheeks. "No!" she screamed, clinging tightly to him. "Feliciano's not dead! He can't be! I won't listen! He's not dead!" Yet no matter how much she screamed, she knew it wouldn't bring her boyfriend back. "This isn't fair! He didn't do anything wrong! I'm the one who cheated on him with someone else! He can't be dead! You're lying!"

All Ludwig could do was just hold his screaming and hysterical daughter until she got it all out of her system. It was the only kind of support he could give his precious child. He rubbed her back comfortingly as she cried, wishing that he could take all of her pain away from her and take it upon himself. His heart ached from knowing just how much she was hurting and not being able to do a damned thing about it. Why did he feel so useless?

.

Matthew cradled his head in his hands as he felt his world crumbling around him. Irunya and Feliciano had been murdered, and he was the main suspect due to the fact that he had been spending time with Monica. Not only that, but Monica was a suspect as well. He could only hope that their matching alibis could check out. They were awaiting confirmation from the coffee shop that they had left when they did.

He felt sick. How could this had happened? Not only that, but the autopsy report had said that Irunya had been two months pregnant. Why hadn't she ever told him? Was it because Alfred had died recently and she didn't want to trouble him? With that in mind, he had lost both his wife and his child that he had known nothing about. What else was life going to throw at him?

There were no more tears within his body, no matter how badly he wanted to cry them. If crying could bring Irunya and their child back, then he would cry until the end of time. He had nothing. Even his own mother was on her last leg after what had happened to Alfred. Once she was gone, there was nothing else left for him in his plane of existence.

Nothing...except for Monica. But she was grieving just as much as he was. What if after all she had been through, she refused to ever love or trust anyone again? Would she shut him out? After the entire ordeal, would she still be the same Monica that she always was? Or was all of this going to destroy her and take her away from him as well?

His anxieties overwhelmed him, but all he could do was curl up and dry-cry, just as he had been doing for nearly two hours by that point. He anticipated the news that his alibi checked out and was nauseous from the worry of waiting. Once he was proven innocent, he knew that he would probably vomit from relief, yet he also wondered what kind of a relief any of that would be? It wasn't as if being proven innocent would bring back anything he had lost. What was he going to do?

The door to the interrogation room opened as an officer slipped in. "Your alibi matched Ms. Beilschmidt's, and they both checked out. You are free to go, and we are terribly sorry about...everything."

Matthew slowly got up and trudged toward the door. "Being sorry won't bring back what was lost," he simply mumbled at the officer before exiting. His gaze suddenly fell on Monica, who was preparing to leave the station. She must've gotten the news at the same time as him.

She looked up and they locked eyes. Her face contorted in pain as she stumbled over to him and fell into his arms with a strangled sob. "They're dead," she brokenly whispered to him as he caught her. "I didn't think any of this would happen. They're really dead…"

Matthew held her tightly, trying to avoid the inevitable buckling of his knees. If it was support that Monica needed from him, then that was what he would give her, no matter what it took. His grip tightened as he heard her break down into tears in his arms. He wished there was something he could do, but he couldn't even bear to look at her as she sobbed for fear that he would lose himself in the same way.

She gripped his jacket tightly. "Don't go home tonight," she pleaded to him. "You don't need to go back to that empty apartment." Monica pulled away from him and looked at him with bloodshot and tear-filled eyes. "Come home with me. I don't want you to be alone." Her voice faded out with those last couple words. "I don't want to be alone…"

He nodded and pulled her close once more, cradling her head against his chest. "I will come with you," he whispered to her. "You won't be alone. I won't let you suffer alone. This is all just too much, Monica. Please don't leave me."

Her voice cracked as she answered him. "I won't, Matthew. I won't leave you…" She loosened her grip on him as she worked hard to re-compose herself. "We will be okay, right?"

Matthew sniffled a little. "Yes, Monica," he answered, summoning as much strength to his voice as he could manage, even if it wasn't much. "We are going to be okay. I'm not going to leave you unless if you want me gone."

She cupped his cheek in her hand. "No, Mattie," she softly said. "I don't want you to ever leave me. Please don't say things like that, especially when you know they're not true." Her heart felt like it was breaking as he forced a smile at her. It tied her stomach in a knot to look at it. "Don't," she quietly told him. "Please don't force yourself to smile if you can't feel it in your heart."

His forced smile instantly disappeared, as if it had never been there. Instead, it was replaced by a heartbroken frown. "I'm worried that if I don't force it, then I'll never smile again," he admitted after thinking about it for a moment.

Monica was at a loss for words as she grabbed his hands and held them tightly. "Mattie, listen to me," she said. "You will smile again, I promise. If the world lost a smile like yours, then I would never forgive the person who took it away." Her mind then went to Feliciano, and the fact that she would never see the Italian man's radiant smile ever again. She felt her knees buckle beneath her as she desperately clung tighter to her friend. "I could never forgive that person anyway." The anger, hurt, and hatred was clear in her voice as she continued. "First, they took away Elizaveta, and now it's Feli…" Hot tears streamed down her cheeks for what felt like the millionth time that night. "They took Liz and Feli from me, and that's not something I could ever forgive, even if I had all the time in the world to heal my heart…"

Matthew could see everyone in the room watching them. He comfortingly hugged her before saying, "Come on, Monica. Let's get out of here. We should go somewhere else to mourn in peace." His arm helped support her as he led her out of the station. "Are you good to drive?"

She shook her head. "I'm scared that if I drove, I would purposely crash and just end it all."

His heart ached at her brutally honest response. "Let's take my car," he said. "We can come back for yours at another time."

Knowing there was nothing left to say, she simply let herself be led to Matthew's car. Nothing made sense to her anymore. But as she glanced at the man who was driving her home, she did find one silver lining. At least she wasn't alone. Holding that fact in her heart, she very timidly placed her hand on top of Matthew's and squeezed it.

Matthew, feeling the warmth of Monica's hand on top of his, felt his heart rate speed up slightly. Was it because he was feeling so lonely? Was it their conversation from when they had coffee? He felt heat rising to his face as he flipped his hand over and interlocked their fingers. Noticing that she gripped his hand even tighter after that, he felt in his heart that maybe one day the pain he was feeling would go away. And if it did, he could only hope that Monica would remain by his side.

Whether it was her grief speaking and causing her the need to cling tightly to the man who was with her, or if she had reverted mentally back to high school when things were still more simple, was anybody's guess. But before she could stop herself, she simply said, "I love you, Mattie."

His heart nearly skipped a beat at her words as he pulled into the Beilschmidt driveway and put his car in park. He squeezed her hand gently while looking over at her. "I love you too, Monica," he responded, voice barely above a whisper.

Without even a second thought, Monica unbuckled her seatbelt and threw herself at Matthew in a lustful and mournful embrace. Her lips feverishly pressed against his as she prayed in her mind that he wouldn't reject her right then and there. "I don't want to be alone," she pleaded between kisses. "Please don't leave. Stay with me."

Matthew's only response was to hold her closer to him for fear that she would slip away if he let go. His sadness felt like it disappeared momentarily while they were like this, and he would do anything he could to hold off the crushing sadness for as long as he could. In his mind, he figured that she probably felt the same at that moment. Though they had both suffered the great losses of their respective lovers, maybe they could come together and heal each other's hearts. That was the reason that stuck in his head as the temperature of the car grew hotter and they began to shed their clothing.


	25. Chapter 25

Emil sat back in his bed, headphones turned up as loudly as they could go. He no longer felt sadness, anger, regret, or any emotions that one would consider human. In fact, he didn't feel anything at all anymore. To him, he was just a hollow shell of a human after Leon had died. He had even stopped taking his mood-regulating medicine, making him feel more like a walking corpse than a teenage boy. His reckless behaviors had become much worse than before, causing his brother to keep him shut in his room more often than not in an attempt to keep him safe from himself. But by this point, Emil didn't want to be saved. All he wanted was for everything to be over.

Lukas Køhler opened the door to his younger brother's room and poked his head in. "Emil, dinner is ready. Why don't you come out and eat with us?"

The younger brother had brushed his headphones off of his head at the sight of his door opening, causing the music he was listening to to ring out loudly around the room. "Why should I? You're just going to shut me back in here after we eat."

"We only do that because we're worried about you," Lukas sighed. "It's not like we want to treat you this way."

"Then don't!" Emil snapped, shooting an icy glare to his brother. "You always do this shit to me, Lukas! I know that you don't care how I feel about things! At least Mom would try to understand what I'm going through, but you're just too busy to care about me!"

"So you're not coming out?"

The younger of the two, crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at the end of his bed. "No," he grumbled. "Any meal with you and Mathias would just taste like shit anyway."

"You haven't eaten anything in three days, Emil," Lukas sighed, leaning against the doorframe. "Please don't be like this. What do you want from us? We can't bring Leon back. No one can."

A fiery yet empty rage built up inside of Emil. "Don't talk about Leon like you know him!" he shouted at his brother. "If I ever hear his name escape your lips again, I'll rip them off! Someone like you doesn't even deserve to say a name so precious!" Tears ran down his cheeks as he shouted, something that tended to happen whenever he thought of Leon. "Now get out and leave me alone!"

Lukas sighed, but he did as his brother requested and shut the door, probably a bit more firmly than Emil would've liked. His defeated footsteps could be heard echoing down the hallway, but the younger of the two didn't care in the least.

Emil put his headphones back over his ears, completely tuning out everything around him, just as he had since the day he found out about Leon. He wished the music could be louder and louder to the point where his eardrums would just burst and he would never have to hear a single word again. Yet then he would never be able to go back to his phone's voicemail and listen to the messages Leon had left him. And if he couldn't at least hear Leon's voice then there was no more point to living this horrible life.

His heart ached whenever he thought about Leon, which caused his to turn up the music even higher. Drowning his sorrows in music was the only way he knew how to cope, and it hardly worked anymore by that point. What was next? Was he going to start drinking? Smoking? Would he develop an addiction to anything that would take away the pain? Or would he just have to end up dying before it got to that point?

.

Matthew woke up the following morning in an unfamiliar room. He could see bookshelves along one of the walls and a neat and tidy office desk in the opposite corner. Wall decals of inspiring quotes decorated the empty spaces on the pale blue walls. His attention then drifted to the nightstand next to him, where he saw a picture of Monica and Feliciano playing with three dogs. That was when he suddenly knew where he was.

He quickly turned his head to make sure he was correct, and there she was. Monica was sleeping soundly next to him, her short, blonde hair tangled into her bangs and hanging in her face. Her torso was bare, yet covered by a thin bed sheet. She looked so peaceful and vulnerable that Matthew instantly wanted to wrap her tightly in a thick blanket before anyone else could see her like that.

That was when Matthew realized that he was wearing nothing but his boxers. His memories from the night before rushed back into his head so quickly that he almost suffered from mental whiplash. He sat up and gripped his head tightly in his hands, trying to organize his thoughts before they could all drown him in sorrow.

Irunya was dead. She had been killed just last night alongside Feliciano Vargas, Monica's boyfriend. Matthew and Monica had been suspected of murder due to their interest in each other. Once the interrogations were over, Monica and Matthew had clung to each other, deciding that they could comfort each other if they weren't separated. Yet that thought led to many, many other things, which ended to his current situation of him waking up in bed with Monica the next morning. How did it all get to this point?

Monica stirred in her sleep and slowly blinked her eyes open. "Matthew?" she quietly asked, equally as disoriented as he was when he first woke. Everything slowly dawned on her as it did with him, her face slowly turning red. "And to think I thought I had dreamt it all," she muttered to herself. Her blue eyes drifted over to the man in her bed. "Feli's dead, isn't he?" Monica's voice cracked with sadness. "And so is Irunya…" Eyes filling with tears, she slowly sat up, not caring about the sheet falling to her lap and exposing her chest. "Mattie, please tell me something," she pleaded, grabbing his arm tightly. She looked up at him, a desperate look in her eyes. "Was what we did last night morally wrong of us?"

The man felt caught under her studious gaze, knowing that his answer could either make or break what they had. Though he knew that they were both in committed relationships not even 24 hours before this time, him moreso than hers, wouldn't it be okay for them to do this? Even if it felt like an injustice to both Feliciano and Irunya's memory, hadn't they almost reached this point when the two were alive? It was a difficult question to answer, but he knew it had to be done.

"I don't feel that it is wrong," he slowly answered. "If there's one thing that I know about Irunya, it's that she would've wanted me to be happy. She would've wanted me to love again. Now the timing of this may not have been all that great, considering it was only last night, but I do not believe it is fully wrong of us."

Monica sat in silence for a moment, taking in all that he had said. "Feli would have also wanted me to love again," she stated. "Regarding our current relationship and standing with each other, I do not feel that it's wrong, but I feel that we should keep it on the downlow until things return to normal."

Matthew nodded. "I can definitely agree with that," he replied. "Though the situation behind all of this really fucking sucks, I'm glad that I didn't wake up alone this morning."

"Yeah," she admitted, nodding in agreement, "me too." Realizing that her breasts were fully exposed, she quickly picked up the thin bed sheet and pulled it up to her chest in embarrassment. Her heart was beating madly in her chest. This was more awkward than a one-night stand at that moment as she dared to look over at him.

He had averted his eyes the moment she pulled the sheet up, giving her the privacy to come down from her embarrassed high. At that moment, he was just glad that he wasn't nearly as aroused as he was on most mornings. Matthew reached over and grabbed his glasses off the nightstand before yawning and stretching.

"It seems we only have one more 'problem', per se," he quietly stated. To explain the problem without words, he gestured to her bedroom door. "Should I attempt to sneak out undetected, or…?" He let the question hang in the air for her to answer.

Monica checked her phone for the time. "Everyone should be gone by now," she stated. "When the murders happen, my dad stays over at the station for a few days. My mom is most-likely out with someone from the neighborhood. She's a busybody. And then my brother should be at school."

That was when it dawned on Matthew. He had slept with Gilbert Beilschmidt's sister. If Gilbert knew that he did that, then he would probably try to talk to him about it at school at some point. His heart pounded madly in his chest at just the thought of it. Not only did he sleep with a family member of a student, but he did it the night his wife had died alongside said-family-member's significant other. This was bad.

"Uh, Gilbert isn't a light sleeper, is he?" Matthew slowly asked.

Monica suddenly realized what Matthew had. "I swear he won't tell anybody," she quickly stated. "I'll wreck him if he does." She looked over at Matthew. "It'll all blow over soon enough," she reassured. At least, she hoped so.

.

After school that day, Emil decided not to head straight home, even though that morning it was said that all minors were not to be out around town. He instead went to the park where he spent Leon's last evening with him. Deep inside of him, Emil wanted to killer to find him there and put him out of his misery. Maybe if he just waited until after dark his wish would come true. He could only hope as much.

As the sun sank lower and lower in the sky, Lukas began to frantically call his phone. Knowing that his phone could be tracked if he left it on, Emil quickly turned it off and shoved it into his jacket pocket. Even if the killer didn't come for him that night, he still didn't want to return home or hear his brother's voice. And if the killer didn't come for him that night, he would just wait outside every night until he did. After all, to him, life was meaningless without Leon.

About an hour or two after the sun had set, Emil heard footsteps on the sidewalk lining the park. He looked up from where he was sitting on the merry-go-round to see a familiar person. It made him wonder what that person was doing in the park after dark since minors weren't supposed to be there, but he had no right to ask since he was doing the same thing.

The person approached him and ominously stood just out of reach. He cocked his head to the side before asking in a gentle voice, "What brings you to the park tonight, Emil? You know minors aren't supposed to be out after school anymore, right?"

Emil fixed his schoolmate with a glare. "The same thing could be said about you too, you know," he defended. "Then again, why does it matter? Would you believe me if I told you that I was waiting for the killer to come for me?"

The other boy giggled. "That's a silly thing to wait for," he stated. "What business could a killer want with someone like you?"

"Cut the crap, Ivan," the younger boy snapped. "You almost seem like you know something from the way you talk."

Ivan sat next to Emil on the merry-go-round, a lost look in his eyes. "Maybe I do, and maybe I don't." He then turned his violet gaze to the younger boy. "You know this is the park where he killed Leon, don't you?"

At the mention of Leon, Emil flinched away as if physically assaulted by those words. "What's it to you? It's not like you knew him or anything."

"You think I didn't know him?" Ivan laughed. "I knew him better than you could ever know." There was a more wicked look in his eyes than before. "After all, he saw me as a big brother of sorts since I was his sister's best friend. I bet you didn't know that, did you, Emil?" His smile was almost as wicked as the look in his eyes. "You didn't know anything about Leon, did you?"

Struck by Ivan's words, Emil slightly recoiled. "Don't say something like that!"

"What?" Ivan taunted. "You can't handle the truth? Do you want the killer to come find you so that you can 'die with him'? That's just pathetic of you." He laughed wickedly. "Your 'love for him' or whatever you want to call it is pathetic as well. It makes you seem too desperate. It's not love, Emil. What you're experiencing for Leon is fixation, obsession. If you actually loved him like you claim to, then you would at least have known that I know him better than you could ever dream to."

"What is your point with all of this?" the younger boy slowly asked.

"How much pain do you claim to be in?" Ivan asked him.

"So much," Emil replied, closing his eyes. His heart ached inside of his chest. "It's unbearable. Anything would be better than this…"

"Anything?" There was a mischievous glint in Ivan's eyes. "Then this probably won't hurt a bit."

Fear struck Emil as his companion pulled out a pocket knife and flipped it open. Though he had been talking about wanting to die, the idea of dying like this terrified him. Only one word managed to escape his lips before the knife was lodged into his throat. "You're-"

"That's right, Emil," he stated, ripping the knife sideways, instantly killing the other boy. "I'm the killer. I'm the one who killed your beloved Leon, and also brought on your demise as well."

After carving his trademark phrase onto the boy's bicep, Ivan went about his way.


	26. Chapter 26

Lukas couldn't count the number of times he had vomited in the past two hours. Or cried. Or screamed. Or cursed his very existence to the core. He felt as if he had gone insane, as if his life were a lie. There was just no way, no way in hell that Emil could be dead. His entire being was shaken to the core when Ludwig Beilschmidt had shown up at his door, and he had lost the rest of his sanity when he was taken to identify his now-deceased little brother.

Mathias hadn't moved from his spot in the recliner since Ludwig showed up. It were as if he had become a statue. His gaze was focused on the wall across the room from him, never faltering. The only time he wasn't staring blankly was whenever he blinked. He didn't react to Lukas's screams or cries; he just stared blankly at the wall, his expression never changing. No matter what went on around him, he didn't react. Everything about him was borderline comatose.

"Say something!" Lukas screamed at his husband. Tears of anger, sadness, and betrayal streamed down his face. "Don't just sit there like that! Fucking say something!" Seeing as how Mathias didn't respond even once, Lukas picked one of the throw pillows up from the couch and hurled it at him. "Stop ignoring me!"

Losing his composure for the umpteenth time that day, Lukas fell to the floor in a fit of sobs. "I hate this!" he shouted, pounding his fist onto the floor. "Why did it have to be us?! Why our fucking family?!" He let out a broken scream that dissolved into a sob. "Emil, why?! Why did you have to do this?! Why did you go alone?! Why couldn't it have been me instead?!"

Though he wasn't expecting an answer, he was still devastated at the deafening silence that followed his cries. He had never felt more alone in his entire life. His mind didn't even consider the petrified version of his own husband company. In his mind, he was all alone. Nothing was going to matter anymore now that Emil was gone. His entire world was crumbling in around him as he wept, and all he could do was watch it happen. All he could do was watch everything he had ever worked for, ever lived for, fall apart right before his eyes. And there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. Never in his life had he felt more powerless.

After awhile, he finally rose to his feet and took a few shaky steps toward where Mathias was still sitting, not even reacting to how his husband hadn't moved an inch. Using ungodly amounts of energy to raise his arm, he patted Mathias firmly on the shoulder twice. "Thanks for all of your help," he bitterly growled. "You are the absolute best." He then trudged to their bedroom and collapsed on the bed.

.

Arthur Kirkland groaned as he flipped through the morning newspaper the next day. He was tired of reading about the murderers and just wanted someone to catch the bastard already. Knowing that Matthew's wife was one of the most recent victims put him in a tight spot. He wanted to reach out and talk to his old friend, but he wasn't sure Matthew would appreciate that after what had gone down about Alfred.

He had seen on the morning news that there had been another victim, and he had quickly switched the TV off before the victim was exposed. Everything about the town seemed to be fucked in his eyes, and all he could do was wait in anticipation for them to catch the person behind it all. It was nerve-wracking.

Alice had gotten news that until the caught the murderer, there would be no more school. She had found out that the latest victim was a student, but she decided it would be better if she didn't know who it was. Her heart was too weak by this point. She couldn't bear to hear about the students she saw on an almost-daily basis dying after school. It was too much for her.

Allistor Kirkland walked into the living room with a book. "Dad?" he cautiously asked. Though he was still quite young, even he noticed that something was wrong with his father after he had lost his job. He waited until Arthur looked over at him before asking, "Would you read this book to me?"

"Ask your mum," Arthur flatly answered. He felt as if his familial side was broken down after he had lost his trust in Alice. It was so bad that he couldn't even spend time with his sons like he used to. Though he knew that what he was doing was wrong, he couldn't seem to maintain the closeness to his family that he once had.

"But I don't want Mum to read to me," his eldest son quietly admitted. "I want you to read to me like you used to. It's no fun when Mum does it. She doesn't put as much fun into it as you do. I like when you do the voices for the characters." Allistor turned his green eyes to his feet. "Never mind. I'll go find something else to do." With a dejected sigh, the small child left the room with his book.

Alice was in the doorway moments later, fixing a glare on her husband. "He doesn't ask you for much, you know," she hissed at him. "You could have at least read your son one story. Would it kill you to be a father every now and then? It's like none of us even know you anymore. Do you like being a stranger to your family that you were once so bloody proud of, Arthur? Do you?"

"Come off it!" he barked at her, throwing the newspaper onto the coffee table. "I'm under enough stress from having to find a new job, due to someone. I don't need you making me feel like shit to go along with it."

"Who the hell are you?" she incredulously asked. "You sure as hell aren't the man that I married! What happened to my beloved Arthur?! Where did he go?! What did this bloody monster before me do with him?!" Hot tears of anger dripped down her face. "When will he return to his family?" Her voice trembled as she dared to ask, "Or is he gone forever?"

Arthur rose to his feet and groaned. "Figure that part out on your own," he simply stated before going to put his shoes and jacket on. "I'm going to go job searching." He glared at her. "You know, since due to the actions of a certain someone, I no longer have a job."

Alice cringed as he slammed the door. She couldn't bear to allow her children to live like this anymore. Her hands shook as she dialed the number of a friend who lived a few towns away. "Hello?" she asked when he answered, voice trembling. "Yes, this is Alice. I have decided to take you up on your offer. The boys and I will be there in few hours."

After hanging up, she cried for a few minutes before grabbing some bags from the hall closet to prepare packing. And as she packed, she gave herself a pep talk to keep her motivated. "It's now or never, Alice," she whispered to herself. "If you don't leave now, this will forever be your life." That was all the motivation she needed to pack up herself and her boys, and say goodbye to the house and the town and the life they once knew. Alice was determined to never come back.

.

Monica sat in an overly-furnished room with only one other person, Lovino Vargas. She hated that she was there, listening to the will that her now-deceased boyfriend had left behind. Everything about this was wrong.

Feliciano wasn't supposed to be dead. Lovino wasn't supposed to be an emotional wreck. No one was supposed to be reading from his will. In an ideal world, none of that shit would've happened. In an ideal world, Matthew and Irunya would still be "happily" married. Matthew would be preparing to welcome his first child in a matter of months. None of them would be hurting this badly.

"Thank you for your patience," a man in a suit stated, walking into the room. He had glasses and an insane cowlick. His violet eyes fixed on the two in front of him. "I take it you two are Lovino Vargas and Monica Beilschmidt?"

"Yes, sir," Monica quietly answered for both of them, bowing her head. She didn't exactly want to look at anything, especially Lovino's sobbing face. Everything was all wrong. Her heart ached as she waited for the man to continue.

"My name is Roderich Edelstein," he stated. "I will just cut to the chase. There are only two names in this will, and next to each name is what he wanted you to receive from him. The way this will was written leads me to believe that he was a simple man."

"He was," she choked out, voice cracking with emotion. Her heart felt that it would burst if Feliciano's death were to be mentioned one more time. She hated that he was dead.

Roderich looked up from the singular piece of paper before him. "I'm just going to get straight to the point. Lovino Vargas, this paper legally dictates that your late brother had decided to leave his share of the restaurant and half of his fortune to you."

Lovino sniffled and nodded, wiping at his eyes with his sleeve. "That's so like him," he whimpered. He looked up toward the ceiling. "I'll do my best to continue on our restaurant dream like you would want me to, Feli." He then broke down into sobs once more. "Even in death, he is more kind than I could ever be."

Ignoring the wails of the deceased's brother, Roderich then turned his attention to Monica. "Miss Beilschmidt, it says here that the late Mr. Vargas has left you the other half of his fortune. Would you like us to transfer it straight to your bank account?"

"Sure," she quietly answered. "That would be fine."

Roderich looked up at the two people directly in front of him. "Split directly in half, both amounts add up to $3,768,374.89. Roughly."

Monica blinked in surprise at the man's words. "Come again?" she asked, certain that he had made a mistake. "I feel I may have misheard you. Did you just say that nearly $4,000,000 was left for me?"

"That is correct," the bespectacled man replied. "If you would be so patient, I will get the checks issued by the bank for you to deposit into each of your accounts."

The rest of that meeting had left Monica in a daze. She had no idea that Feliciano even had that kind of money. He was always so humble and down-to-earth. It made her wonder if he was living a double life behind her back. What kind of many was Feliciano Vargas? He sure as hell wasn't the man that Monica thought she knew.

.

Matthew felt that his heart would stop the moment Monica let herself into his apartment and told him about her sudden wealth. He had never taken Feliciano Vargas for a millionaire. It didn't make sense to him. He started to wonder if anyone he knew was who they seemed to be. His mind felt it would explode if he were to receive any more shocking information.

"So you're telling me that you are now a millionaire?" he asked Monica, hardly believing the words coming out of his mouth. "That's crazy. It's unreal. Who would have guessed?" He ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. "I can't believe this."

"Yeah, me neither," she agreed, sitting down on his knee. Monica leaned heavily against Matthew and closed her eyes. "It feels like I'm stuck inside of a dream. What if I wake up and none of this happened? What if I wake up and my best friend is still alive, and Feliciano and Irunya are alive? This is all too crazy to be reality, but it's also too crazy to be a dream. Mattie, what's even going on anymore?"

He sighed and wrapped his arms around her waist to hold her close. "I really have no idea. Even I wonder if this is all just some crazy dream. It's too crazy to think that Rune and Alfred are gone. What's even crazier is the thought that Irunya was pregnant and never told me. Why hadn't she told me?"

"We can't let ourselves fall victim to the what-if's, Mattie," Monica sighed, cupping his cheek in her hand and kissing the opposite cheek. "All we can do right now is accept what happened and try to move on from there." She rested her forehead against his jaw. "At least we're not alone."

Matthew pulled her closer, taking in her warmth. "You're right about that. If I were to have to go through all of this alone, I don't think I would've been able to make it. Having you by my side makes thing easier, that's for sure."

"I won't leave your side, Mattie," she told him, interlacing their fingers. "You and I will get through this together. As long as I have you by my side, I know I can overcome anything. We've got this. I know we do." She smiled and kissed his cheek three times before snuggling back into him. "Having you by my side the whole time makes me feel less alone. Thank you, Mattie."

"Shouldn't I be saying the same to you?" Matthew asked, smiling. He kissed the top of her head. "Because of you, I feel like it would be okay to love again. I hope you keep your word of not leaving my side. I need you, Monica."

"And I need you too," she said, pulling away and looking into his eyes. "Matthew, I think I'm in love with you. I don't want any part of this life if you're not in it. You're everything to me now. Please let me remain with you once it's all said and done." Monica cupped his cheeks in her hands and pressed her lips to his. "If you ever decide to marry again, please let it be me and no one else. My heart wouldn't be able to bear seeing you marry someone else a second time. I wouldn't be able to take it."

"You'll never have to worry about that," he told her, kissing the tip of her nose. "I don't ever want to love anyone else but you. Please don't leave my on my own."

"I wouldn't dream of it," she replied, kissing him once more. "No one deserves to be alone, especially when they are going through a pain like this. You'll never have to be alone again, not while I'm around."

"Then it seems you'll have to be around forever," he said with a smile. "Not that I would ever have a problem with that."

Monica smiled happily and leaned against him once again. "Me neither."


	27. Chapter 27

Ivan sat in his room, holding his head in his hands. He couldn't believe that so many people in his town were dying, and that it was the same person doing all of it. His head ached, exhausted from thinking too much about who the culprit could be. But there was no way he could give up on finding the murderer. After all, he still hadn't avenged Chun-Yan.

He looked through the scattered newspaper clippings on his desk in his room, trying to find some clue as to who the killer was. If he could find something, anything that would lead him in the right direction, he would give anything. His eyes drooped a bit as he scrolled through news articles on the internet for what felt like the billionth time.

"Chun, please help me," he softly pleaded to his phone. "Just give me a push in the right direction. Help me find the guy behind this. I'm begging you." Ivan squeezed his eyes shut. "This really sucks. It's hard enough that you're gone, but now the whole town is going to shit. What is even going on anymore? Everything stopped making sense. I can hardly take it anymore!"

Ivan pounded his fist on his desk. "This world makes no sense without you!" he shouted to the photo of them that he had on display. "I can hardly take it anymore! If this is how it is, then I don't want to exist in a world without you! Everything is wrong without you here! I don't want this! No one does! Come back, Chun! Or at least allow me to come join you!"

He took deep breaths to try to calm himself down. "I hate this," he muttered to himself. "I hate it. I hate it. I hate it." His hands desperately pulled at his pale hair as he squeezed his eyes shut in frustration. "Everything is backwards, inside-out, and upside down! I can't keep living like this. I'll go insane if I can't find whoever did this to you!"

.

Gilbert Beilschmidt checked the clock on the desk in his room and sighed. His sister still hadn't come home from Matthew's house. Did she even care that Matthew was his counselor at school that he used to vent to? Now venting would be awkward for him, because all he would be able to think about is how the man before him was fucking his sister every night.

"Gross!" he shouted, throwing his pillow across his bedroom. What was up with him anyway? Why should it matter to him what kinds of guys his sister dates? Was he the weird one for making a big deal in his head over his sister choosing to hook up with his school counselor? It's not like he hated the guy or anything, but it just felt wrong to him. "Why am I freaking out over this?!" He clutched his head in his hands and pulled at his snowy-white hair in frustration. "It's got nothing to do with me!"

There was a soft knock at his door. "Gilbert?" his mother asked through the door. "Honey, is everything okay?"

"Yeah," he called back. "Sorry, I saw a bug in here, but I killed it. It's dead now." Gilbert slapped his palm to his forehead in exasperation. "Mutti, when is Monica supposed to be home?"

Maria opened the door and looked in at her son. "Since when are you your sister's keeper?" she laughed. Her red eyes focused on her son. "Are you worried about her or something?"

"Of course I am!" Gilbert exclaimed. "Feliciano is dead! Matt's wife is dead! So many people are dying left and right, yet people are still leaving their houses like it has nothing to do with them! What if she's next?!"

His mother's eyes widened in horrified shock. "Please don't talk like that, Gilbert," she softly said. "It's not good to talk about things of that sort. How would you feel if you were her?" She gripped the doorknob tightly. "Please don't say such worrisome things. Can't you tell how scared all of us are about the things you just voiced?"

Gilbert blinked in surprise. His family? Scared? There was no way. His family had always boasted about how fearless they all were, especially his father. "You're all scared?" he slowly asked. "But that's impossible. The Beilschmidt family is too proud to be scared. That's what I've always been told."

"Any of those murders could've been you or Monica," Maria sniffled. "The killer got Elizaveta and Feliciano. What if he had gotten one of you as well? What would I do? I don't ever want to think something like that, so why would you so openly say it to me? Why?" Tears streamed down her cheeks. "I don't ever want to lose any of you, Gil. There's no telling what I would do if anything were to ever happen to you or your sister, or even your father for that matter. Please don't say things like that so carelessly."

"I'm sorry, Mutti," her son replied. He stood and walked over to Maria and hugged her. "Nothing is going to happen to any of us. Please stop worrying. You know I can't handle it when you cry." His grip on her tightened. "I promise I'll stay safe. There is no need to worry about me, okay?"

"You can say that all you want, but it won't make me worry less," she sighed. "After all, you're my little boy. I'll always worry, whether you like it or not." She kissed the side of her son's head. "Please don't make me worry more than I normally do." Her lips formed into a smile. "Then again, if you did that then you wouldn't be my Gilbert, would you?"

"You know me so well, don't you?" he joked. "But I got it. I'll be more careful."

.

Monica checked her phone, which had been resting on Matthew's bathroom sink while they showered together. She smiled as Matthew's arms circled her waist and pulled her closer to him. "My mom texted me asking if I'll be home tonight."

"What did you tell her?" he asked, resting his chin on her bare shoulder. His lips grazed her earlobe, and he smiled when she squirmed in his arms.

"I told her I'm not coming home tonight," she replied. She turned her head to look at her new lover. "Isn't that a decision that you'd agree with anyway, Mattie?" Her lips pressed against his cheek as she smiled. "That way we can be together all night?"

Matthew growled lustfully into her ear. "It's like you read my mind or something," he laughed. He squeezed her tightly against him. "God, it's like you were made specifically for me." His hands entangled themselves in her short, blonde hair. "I will never want anyone else, Monica. No one but you."

The woman turned her body to face him. "There is no one else I'd ever want either," she sighed, nuzzling her head into his bare chest. "No one but Matthew Williams for me." Monica kissed his neck, leaving a light mark. "But that means that you're mine and mine alone, correct?"

"I wouldn't want to belong to anyone else," he said, grinning. "Now what do you say we take this to the bedroom?" Matthew then picked Monica up bridal style and carried her off to his bedroom.

.

"What are you so frustrated about, Gilbert?" Maria asked, glancing across the dinner table at her son. "You've been acting on-edge ever since I told you that Monica won't be home tonight. I get that you're worried about your sister, especially since her new man is the guidance counselor from your school. She's going through a rough time, and they both lost similar people in their lives. Please be patient with her while she has her fling." She sighed. "Though I'm hoping that all of this isn't just some shameless fling brought on by grief."

"Didn't she always have a crush on him anyway?" Gilbert grumbled, pushing his mashed potatoes around his plate with his fork. "It's just weird and gross for me because of my relation to him. It's just as bad as if your mom dated your teacher, you know?" He cringed. "It's just wrong and gross and weird, okay?"

Maria giggled to herself. "You really are something else, Gil," she chuckled. Her smile remained on her face. "Then again, you've always been protective of your sister, even though she was the one who beat you up when you two were kids." She smiled fondly as she remembered how close her two children always were. Not many mothers could say the same. "I really am fortunate to have you two, aren't I?"

"What's with bringing up stupid stuff like Monica beating me up as a kid?" he groaned. "That was so long ago. I'm trying not to remember that I was constantly whaled on by my sister, you know." Gilbert sighed. "Just remember, there came a day when I beat up her old trash boyfriend when I was in middle school."

"Of course we all remember that," she replied with a smile. "You made me and your father so proud that day. That was when we knew that we had raised you right. We didn't have to worry about Monica as much anymore, because she had you to protect her." Maria swirled her tea around in her mug for a moment before looking up at her son. "And we also knew that your sister would always be there to protect you as well."

.

That night, Gilbert stood a little ways down the street from his house to smoke. If his mother knew he was smoking, she would kill him faster than anything else could. That thought in itself was terrifying enough to make him want to instantly quit smoking. He shivered a little against the cold night air.

He wished that there was a way to clear his mind of what was going on with Matthew and Monica. If there were a way to just forget it was happening, he was dying to know it. Just the thought of his school counselor boning his sister was enough to make him shudder with disgust. There was no way in hell he would ever be able to confide in that man ever again.

He breathed out the smoke in his mouth and sighed. "Dammit," he groaned. "Why can't I get over something so stupid anyway? It's not like it really matters what I think about it or not. My opinion won't change a damn thing."

The sound of footsteps broke the natural silence that surrounded him. There was something eerie about them. His breath caught in his throat. Could this be the murderer coming for him? No, it was impossible! Besides, what were the odds that the killer would strike two nights in a row?

Gilbert threw his cigarette to the ground and crushed it under his foot. He had to get out of there, and fast. His eyes squeezed shut as he realized the person was rounding the corner. Everyone knew that he was the son of the chief of police, so of course he would be killed if they saw him. After all, if he lived through it, the murderer would be caught. This was a horrible situation.

He took one moment to look up at the person approaching him. As long as he timed it correctly, he could easily get away if the moment called for it. But when he looked up, the person he saw was not who he expected it to be. "Ivan?" he asked, confused.

Sure enough, Ivan Braginsky was walking toward him, a menacing smile on his face. "Hello, Gilbert," he greeted, voice monotonous. "What brings you out here tonight? Are you looking for something? Someone?"

"What's going on with you?" Gilbert demanded, backing away from his classmate. His heart was pounding in his chest. There was no way he could accept that Ivan was the murderer. That would mean that he had killed Chun-Yan. "What's wrong with you?!"

"Nothing," the other boy replied, same monotonous tone as before. "Why would you think something like that? I'm acting the same as always. If anyone were to be acting strange, that would be you." He stepped closer to Gilbert, who stood there, paralyzed with fear. "You're not the murderer, are you?" Ivan pulled a sharp knife from his pocket. "If you were, I would have to avenge Chun, you know."

"Don't even joke about that!" Gilbert shouted. "You're insane!" His eyes widened. "You're the killer, aren't you, Ivan?"

Ivan smiled fondly at Gilbert, cocking his head to the side with a childlike innocence. "Ding! Ding! Ding!" he sang out. "I always knew that you pretended to be an idiot at all times." In one swift motion, he thrust the knife into his companion's abdomen. "But you're too late, I'm afraid."

Gilbert sucked in his breath. No! He couldn't let things end like this! He brought his fist up and slammed it into the side of Ivan's head with all of his strength. "Fuck off, Ivan!" he shouted, taking a step back. Only then did he notice his grave mistake as blood began to pour from his wound. "No!" he gasped out, crumpling to his knees. "It can't end like this!"

The other boy looked around himself frantically. "W-Where am I?" he cried out, voice trembling. He then noticed Gilbert on the ground in a pool of blood. "What happened to you?!"

"You fucking prick!" Gilbert snarled, glaring at his assailant. "You did this! You stabbed me!" His red eyes were like daggers, piercing into the other boy. "And not just me! You're the one who killed Alfred and Emil and Leon!" His face contorted in a mix of pain and rage. "You killed Chun-Yan!"

Those were Gilbert Beilschmidt's final words. Having bled out from his wound, he lay still on the ground as the other boy's entire world crumbled down around him.

Ivan's voice was low and panicked as he crouched next to Gilbert's body, stunned by his final words. "I killed Chun-Yan?"


	28. Chapter 28

Ivan was in a daze as he crouched next to the body of his classmate. Nothing made sense to him anymore. How could he have killed Chun-Yan? There was no way! She was his best friend! He couldn't have killed her! Not her, not Leon, not Alfred, not Gilbert!

The knife in the boy's hand felt heavier than it previously had. Was it the weight of realization? Did he really kill all of those people? He didn't want to believe it, but the other boy's body and the knife in his hand was proof enough of what he had done. Was this why he would have graphic nightmares of killing people? Were they really nightmares after all?

His stomach churned as he pieced it all together. He quickly turned away from Gilbert as he vomited. Everything about the whole situation disgusted him. How would he ever be able to live with himself after what he had done? It was too much!

Headlights, soon followed by flashing police lights, blinded Ivan. He could feel his heart racing madly as none other than Ludwig Beilschmidt jumped out of the police car. His mind was in a frenzy as he desperately tried to think of a reason as to why he would kill his son for absolutely no reason. But there was nothing.

"Gilbert!" Ludwig shouted, ripping off his gloves and desperately searching for a pulse, or any indication that his only son was still alive. "No! No, no, no, no, no, no!" Refusing to accept this harsh reality, he shook Gilbert. "Wake up, Gil! Please wake up! There is no way this is happening!"

"I'm sorry!" Ivan sobbed, clutching the knife tightly in his hand. "I killed him!"

Ludwig felt his blood run cold as he turned to face the sobbing murderer. "Ivan Braginsky?!" He felt as if his eyes and ears were deceiving him.

"I killed him," the boy repeated. "I killed all of them. Chun, Alfred, Leon, Gilbert…. Others whom I don't know the names of. They're all dead. I killed them. In my nightmares I killed them. I was asleep. Gilbert said it was me."

Trying to process the murder confession, Ludwig looked to his deceased son. "Gilbert...knew?" He couldn't even begin to wrap his head around all of the current madness. He reached up to his shoulder to his walkie-talkie, holding down the button to transmit Ivan's confession.

"I didn't want to kill everyone," Ivan continued. "I don't even know why I did it. There is no reason to any of it. Why would I kill my best friend, her family, Alfred, Gilbert? What the hell is wrong with me?" His grip on the knife tightened. "Why did I do all of this? What was the point of it all? Was there a point in the first place? I can't accept this. I can't live with this! There's no point in it! I killed my best friend! Why do I deserve to live when I'm the one who took her life from her?! If justice is real, then I will bring it upon myself!" He lifted the knife, pointing it toward the left side of his chest. "I'm sorry, Officer Beilschmidt! I'm so, so sorry!"

Ignoring the shouts of protest from Ludwig, Ivan swiftly plunged the knife into his heart, ending the living nightmare.

.

One Year Later

Monica Beilschmidt admired the beautiful engagement ring on her finger and smiled, glancing at the photos on the wall across from her. Pictures of Matthew with his mom and Alfred, Matthew and Irunya's wedding photo, a picture of Monica's first date with Feliciano, Monica and Elizaveta in their high school prom dresses, and a photo of Monica and Gilbert on his seventeenth birthday. Each photo seemed like a lifetime ago and made her heart ache. She was still coming to terms with her brother's sudden death, each day just as hard as the day she lost him.

Two strong arms circled her waist as Matthew Williams held her from behind. He kissed her cheek and snuggled her close. "It will get easier someday," he quietly said before sighing. "I just wish I knew when that day would come."

She nodded her sentiment. "But even though I know that kid killed all of them, I can't bring myself to hate him. Whether it's because of his own circumstances or because he killed himself upon realizing what he had done, I just can't do it. What's wrong with me? He murdered so many people whom we both loved, but I can't help but pity him. Maybe I'm just disappointed because I didn't get any closure. Then again, no one did."

Matthew held his fiancee close, trying to comfort her, yet he wondered how comforting he really was. He almost felt relief upon hearing their newborn crying in the nursery. "Want me to go?" he asked.

Monica turned her head to him and smiled. "Let's go together," she suggested. She grabbed Matthew's hand and walked him down the hallway to the nursery. "No more need to cry," she softly announced, entering the room, "Mommy and Daddy are here."

Leaning back against the doorframe, Matthew watched Monica pick up their fussy daughter, smiling fondly at the two. He let out a relieved laugh when the infant instantly stopped crying, pacified by their presence alone. "She seems like an easy baby," he said with a chuckle. He stepped over to Monica and the baby, slipping his index finger into his daughter's grip. "Let's hope the rest of them will be like that."

Laughing heartily, Monica turned her attention to her fiance. "We can only hope," she agreed. Her gaze drifted back down to the infant as her tiny eyes blinked open. "Finally decided to join the realm of the conscious?" she teasingly cooed. "How about that, Genny?"

They had chosen to name their daughter Genesis Hope Williams, knowing that her name would roughly translate to "hope for new beginnings". After the horror of the murders, Matthew and Monica agreed to put their future into the beautiful girl that healed their aching hearts.

"Should we get ahold of your parents to let them know she's awake? Your mom said something about getting together for dinner tonight." Matthew took Genesis from Monica and smiled. "I bet they'd like to see Genny while she's awake anyway."

Monica smiled. "I'm on it." She kissed Matthew's lips before stepping into the hallway to make the phone call.

After finishing the call, she leaned against the wall, thinking about the past year and a half of her life. If anyone two years ago were to ask her if she had seen any of this in her future, she would've said they were crazy. Yet here she was, a secret millionaire, living a normal mother's life, and engaged to her high school crush. If only she and Matthew hadn't lost so many precious people to reach this point. But this was her life now, and she would be damned if she didn't make the best of it.

.

Tino Oxenstierna sighed as he walked through the grocery store. He had no been separated from Berwald for over a year. Neither of them saw a point in staying together after Peter was murdered. The last time they met face-to-face, was when Berwald told him what had become of the person who had killed their son. After that day, Tino didn't see his husband again, not even in passing. It was almost as if Berwald disappeared off the face of the earth. He had even stepped down from being the county judge.

Naturally, Tino was genuinely surprised to find Berwald perusing the liquor aisle of the store that day. He had to admit that his husband looked rough. Then again, a year of heavy drinking with no support from anyone would do that. His conscience stabbed him with guilt, knowing that it may not have reached that point if he had stayed by his side. Though he knew it wasn't healthy for him to think that way, he couldn't help it.

Trying to sneak away unnoticed, Tino's heart skip a beat when he heard Berwald's deep voice behind him. "Tino? Is it really you?"

Tino slowly turned to face Berwald. "Yes," he slowly replied. "It's me, Berwald. How are you?"

"I have definitely seen better days," the taller man stated. "How about you? You look well."

"Thanks, I guess," the other man replied, scraping at the floor with his shoe. "I'm getting to the point where I can get out of bed in under an hour these days. For awhile, I had some pretty good neighbors that helped me through it until the little brother they were raising was murdered by that psycho." Tino nearly spat the words out of his mouth by the end of the sentence. "After that, it was constant yelling in the apartment next door until they separate and moved away." He frowned. "Now I'm all alone again, but it's not as bad as it could be." His eyes filled with tears. "Sometimes, I can still hear Peter's voice telling me to get up, asking if I can take him to the park." A couple tears escaped, but he didn't care. "It's so hard, Berwald. I hate this. I hate all of it. Why did any of this have to happen? I lost my friends. I lost my son." He lifted his gaze to meet the eyes of the man before him.. "I lost the only man I ever loved with everything in me." His voice began to tremble. "No. I'm not fine. Nothing about this is fine. But I can't say that because that's not what people want to hear from me."

As if upon instinct, Berwald stepped toward Tino, closing the gap between them, wrapping his arms around his husband and burying the smaller man's face into his chest. "Fuck anyone who doesn't want to hear the truth. Stop lying to everyone, Tino. And that includes yourself. Sure, my coping mechanisms are less than grand, but I won't lie about how I feel."

The smell of tobacco and alcohol overwhelmed Tino. He didn't remember ever smelling it this strongly on Berwald before. "I can't, Ber," he said, voice muffled. "I'll lose myself if I do. And if I lose myself, maybe I'll never be me again."

Berwald, held Tino at arm's length and looked him in the eye. "If you lose yourself, then I swear on my life that I will find you again."

The smaller man's eyes watered. "How can you say that when I haven't seen or heard from you in over a year? Don't get my hopes up for something that could never happen."

"I couldn't face you, Tino," he said, averting his eyes. "I'm no longer the man you married. That man died with our son. But for any chance at a future with you in it, even as nothing more than a friend, I'll do anything. I'll leave this aisle. I'll throw out in alcohol in the house. I'll go to a support group. Seeing you for the first time in over a year is enough to get me to work toward a future with you in it."

"If you mean it, then let's start over," Tino said, "from the beginning. My name is Tino Oxenstierna. Most days, I am overwhelmed by grief, but I am still trying to manage. It's nice to meet you."

Berwald put the bottle that had been in his hand back onto the shelf. "Hello, Tino Oxenstierna. I'm Berwald Oxenstierna. I'm a now recovering alcoholic who is also grieving. It occurs to me that we have the same last name. I hope that soon, that will no longer be the only thing we have in common."

Tino found his first smile in months forming on his lips. "It's a start, Berwald."

.

Alice Kirkland reached into her mailbox and pulled out a package, taking it into her house. Upon opening it, she found that it was her finalized divorce papers, signed by both her and Arthur. It was over now. It was finally over. Her heart ached in her chest, but only for a moment. She felt relief when a pair of strong arms embraced her from behind.

"So it's finally over," a man's voice softly said in her ear. "How are you feeling, Alice? Are you okay? I know it must really be painful."

She turned to face him, taking in his breathtaking appearance. He was tall with tanned skin and dark, fluffy hair. The only similarity between him and Arthur was his green eyes, yet his seemed to always hold a playful gaze instead of the stern glare that Arthur's held. "Antonio," she breathed, smiling. Her lips placed a kiss on his cheek. "I'm a little sad to see the ending of what was once a dream come true, but now I can move forward with my life. Here's to our future," she said to him.

Antonio Fernandez Carriedo smiled and placed a hand on Alice's pregnant belly. "And to hers," he replied with a smile before kissing her. "When you called me a year ago, I didn't think you were serious. But when you and the boys showed up at my door, I knew I was ready for anything, as long as you would be by my side. You have given me everything I could ever ask for. I love you, I love the boys, and I love our unborn daughter. I know this timing isn't exactly the best, but I can't hold back any longer."

Alice gasped when Antonio got down on one knee and pulled a small box from his pocket. "Toni…"

"Alice Kirkland," he began, "I know you've only been legally single for about five minutes now, but I'm impatient." He blushed, smiling an adorably awkward smile at her. "Would you have any problems with being my wife? We won't have any issues like your last marriage, because you've been the only person on my mind since college. I swear I'll continue loving you and only you until the day I die."

She smiled, her heart nearly bursting with joy. "Yes, Antonio," she said. "Nothing would make me happier than marrying you." Her eyes widened as he placed a dazzling diamond ring on her finger. "I love you, Antonio. I love you. I love you. I love…"

Her professing was soon cut off by his lips, and as she became lost in her love for him, Alice realized that she had finally found her happy ending.

.

The End


End file.
